


Men and Monsters

by CrystalRosewing



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales
Genre: +Anima Magic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Body Modification, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Curses, F/M, Fantasy, Gargoyles (Species), Henry Turner broke the world, Horror, M/M, Magic, Mer Transformation, Monster Salazar, Monsters, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, Multi, Naval Officers, Pirates, Psychological Horror, Swords & Sorcery, Tír na nÓg, Werewolves, merfolk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalRosewing/pseuds/CrystalRosewing
Summary: "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."In the aftermath of the Tridents destruction, Salazar finds himself cursed with a new hideous form and forsaken by his crew for abandoning them. Now alone in a world devastated by Calypsos rage, he finds a glimmer of hope with a witch who is not all she seems to be. But neither is anyone else who lives upon her strange Isle. But finding a way to reclaim his humanity may be the least of his problems... As one of Jacks most dangerous enemies returns, and he's intent on destroying everything and everyone in his way.





	1. Traitor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Archive of Our Own! This is my first time posting here, heck I litterally only just got this account today! ^^;
> 
> So, upon seeing Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales I absolutely fell in love with it, in particularly I've grown to adore Salazar and the rest of the crew of the Silent Mary. However as much as I loved the movie I was more than a little disappointed with two major aspects of it. For starters Salazar and his crew were not treated well throughout the movie… I mean they were very interesting characters that die horrible deaths and then immediately upon being freed from their curse they end up dying again with the knowledge that their captain betrayed them? 
> 
> Secondly there is the issue of the Trident of Poseidon's destruction; an all-powerful artifact suddenly being destroyed which will and I quote "Release the Power of the Sea" and all it does is break all the curses at sea and nothing else? I somehow doubt that. If this relic truly held that much power and then it was abruptly released, wouldn't that mean all of that extra power by default would end up going to Calypso and thus end up causing all sorts of havoc on the world… that sounds much more plausible.
> 
> Now for this fanfic I am taking a few creative liberties and adding a slight crossover with a manga I enjoy reading called +Anima and also from the old Disney show Gargoyles. No there won't be any characters from these worlds but some basic creatures and concepts are added to make an interesting read. I hope this could be an entertaining 'redemption' fic in a way. With the main pairing being Salazar x OC, and a few others as well. Still enjoy the story!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."
> 
> In the aftermath of the Tridents destruction, Salazar finds himself cursed with a new hideous form and forsaken by his crew for abandoning them. Now alone in a world devastated by Calypsos rage, he finds a glimmer of hope with a witch who is not all she seems to be. But neither is anyone else who lives upon her strange Isle. But finding a way to reclaim his humanity may be the least of his problems... As one of Jacks most dangerous enemies returns, and he's intent on destroying everything and everyone in his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Archive of Our Own! This is my first time posting here, heck I litterally only just got this account today! ^^;
> 
> So, upon seeing Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales I absolutely fell in love with it, in particularly I've grown to adore Salazar and the rest of the crew of the Silent Mary. However as much as I loved the movie I was more than a little disappointed with two major aspects of it. For starters Salazar and his crew were not treated well throughout the movie… I mean they were very interesting characters that die horrible deaths and then immediately upon being freed from their curse they end up dying again with the knowledge that their captain betrayed them?
> 
> Secondly there is the issue of the Trident of Poseidon's destruction; an all-powerful artifact suddenly being destroyed which will and I quote "Release the Power of the Sea" and all it does is break all the curses at sea and nothing else? I somehow doubt that. If this relic truly held that much power and then it was abruptly released, wouldn't that mean all of that extra power by default would end up going to Calypso and thus end up causing all sorts of havoc on the world… that sounds much more plausible.
> 
> Now for this fanfic I am taking a few creative liberties and adding a slight crossover with a manga I enjoy reading called +Anima and also from the old Disney show Gargoyles. No there won't be any characters from these worlds but some basic creatures and concepts are added to make an interesting read. I hope this could be an entertaining 'redemption' fic in a way. With the main pairing being Salazar x OC, and a few others as well. Still enjoy the story!

**Men and Monsters**

**Prologue: Traitor**

_He was sinking..._

The seawater from the colliding walls churning all around his body with a hellish fury as the ocean called for him, pulling him down to her deepest depths. Although Salazar couldn't actually feel anything beyond the horrific pain that consumed him, radiating from what little remained of his face after he'd fallen and smacked into the anchor. The agony of being stabbed with a sword and then having it rammed in even deeper as he'd landed on the two members of his crew who'd somehow managed to make it onto the chain couldn't even begin to compare to the feeling of having nearly all of his teeth knocked out while the bones in his face shattered and distorted into the flesh. Some fragments of bone even punctured and severed the nerves behind his eyes. The raging waters now hastily being tainted with his crimson lifeblood.

It was pain, but pain mixed with an all too familiar terror. The knowing that he was going to die… again. What was worse was that nothing he had done even mattered at this point; the Sparrow had escaped him yet again. In fact, this time he hadn't even met his end at the hands of the Sparrow! It had been that pirate Barbossa, who he had let live twice in his crazed attempts to get to Jack that was responsible for his demise. With the crushing force of the waves surrounding him there wasn't even enough time left for him to realize that he was now facing the consequences of those disastrous choices as his world descended into a cold, unfeeling darkness.

_El Matador del Mar drowned beneath the waves once more..._

_But little could he imagine that he was nowhere near done feeling the repercussions of his actions…_

_Fate was nowhere near that kind…_

* * *

 

Barely a minute after Jack Sparrow, Henry and Carina had been helped onto the deck of the Black Pearl, a frightened yelp from Scrum signaled that there was an unexpected surprise still clinging tightly to that anchor. One of the Spaniards, more precisely one of the officers, had somehow managed not to be knocked off when Salazar had fallen into him. He was coughing violently when he gripped the ships side and pulled himself onto the deck where he collapsed into an indignant heap. Immediately all weapons were drawn and pointed straight at him, the crew of pirates looking at the man like he was a demon who'd sailed with the devil's own crew. Perhaps to them that is exactly what he was. He lay on the deck for several moments, coughing and hacking with a look of utter anguish written clearly upon his face.

But suddenly his eyes snapped open and before anyone could react to either stab or shoot him, the man was at the rail again looking over the side and into the water. He seemed frantic, as though he was searching for someone, presumably the other officer who had made it onto the anchor along with him. But after a few seconds it registered that he was the only one to make it aboard and despair visibly washed over him like the waves he had just escaped from. A barely audible whisper of _'No'_ was the only sound he made as his head hung in defeat; apparently uncaring about the growing chorus of _'kill him'_ or _'run him through'_ from the Pearls crew, all of whom were still pointing their weapons at his back.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Jack intervened before there could be any murder on board his ship. After all he'd only just had his precious Pearl freed from that blasted bottle. The last thing she needed was a fresh coat of blood, guts and brains coating her deck. "We've got other things to do right now mates! Throw him in the brig and we'll deal with him later." After a moment there was loud grumbling and in spite of being clearly unhappy with the captains' orders, the crewmen obeyed and the nearest pirate roughly grabbed the Spaniard by his arm to which he promptly screamed in pain. Although it revealed just how he had managed to stay on the anchor when Salazar fell onto him. Clearly his arm had been looped through one of the links of the chain on that fateful moment, most likely recovering from nearly slipping or losing his grip a second before... But when his Capitán had hit him his arm was snagged, remaining stuck in the link. It may have prevented him from falling but his arm had been mangled in the chain as a result. Evident by the multiple shards of ivory white bone poking through the sleeve of his waterlogged coat. Not that this revelation earned him any sympathy from the pirates who dragged him down to the ships brig and threw him onto the cells floor like a piece of garbage. None of them even payed attention to how he landed on that badly broken arm, presumably damaging it all the more.

For a time he didn't move, he just lay there staring at the bars of the cell desperately trying to rouse himself from whatever horrible nightmare he was currently trapped in.

"Just a nightmare, just a pesadilla. When you wake it will be over." He whispered to himself over and over again like some sort of mantra. But the burning pain in whatever was left of his arm warned that this was no dream… just as the cold and bitter numbness that had set in upon his first death in the Devils Triangle had assured him that it had been all too real as well. The pain he was feeling now was such a harsh contrast from feeling… nothing… for nearly thirty years. Being conscious but sickeningly numb, with only phantom pains from how the fire burned away his flesh being the occasional break from the empty nothingness.

But this was different now, everything was. As horrible as things had been for those long years, he had not suffered in solitude. The others were there, they had all been there together and that made the hell they were trapped in slightly more bearable. But now he was alone… and the others were all gone. In his mad dash to reach the anchor, driven by a freshly resurrected sense of self-preservation, upon managing to get on the damned thing enough of his humanity had over-ridden his adrenaline-fueled sprint that he had tried to help the others. He had reached down and clasped the hand of another officer, Antonio Moss, and pulled him up. But that... that had been all he could do… but this effort had been in vain, Moss had been the only one he'd been able to save and… he didn't make it. No one else had either.

_…Moss…_

_…Nico…_

_…Lesaro…_

_…Santos…_

_…Everyone…_

_…Por favor perdóname…_

_And so, Officer Magda was left to rot alone in the brig of the Black Pearl…_

* * *

 

_Everything was a blur of rage, fear and confusion._

Salazar was not sure how long it had been or just what was happening as his senses gradually began returning to his damaged body. At first he believed that he was dead, really and truly dead. But that thought had quickly been dismissed as the first pangs of pain had resonated through him, like a ripple on a still pond. By some grace from a God he'd believed had long abandoned him, the pain actually helped him to pull his mind out from the darkness. Another unforeseen mercy came with the realization that the blinding agony in his face had greatly subsided from what it had been, granted he still felt sore. However judging by the sharp jagged feeling that occurred when his tongue lightly grazed his teeth they had not been knocked out, but rather broken into pointed shards.

As he came out of this addled state his first truly coherent thought was an expected one… namely wondering just how he was still alive. But the internal inquiry was met with a strange memory, or something closely akin to one anyway. It was… the sound of a woman laughing, ringing clearly through his mind. Yet it was not comforting, not by any means. In fact it sent a chill down his spine, the laugh seeming as cold and as dark as the embrace of the ocean itself. Shaking his head and driving away the echo of ominous laughter, Salazar slowly opened his eyes. Blinking them several times as he did so as his vision was still hazy, but as it cleared his confusion was magnified to far outshine anything else that he felt. So much so that he wondered if his eyes had remained severely damaged because what he was looking at made no sense at all. For Armando Salazar was greeted with the image of the full moon shining down through the seas ever shifting waves.

He stared. He must have stared unblinking up at the moon for a solid five minutes. While he undoubtedly **knew** what he was seeing, his mind was desperately trying to reason out just **how** it was possible. Sensing something was very wrong but unable to tear his eyes away from the moon, he cautiously brought his hands up and felt his neck and to his complete and total horror his fingers traced over several ridges just above his cravat… _he had gills._

This led to him to thrash violently in the water as his mind reeled at the discovery. What was this madness?! What sort of devilry had befallen him now!? Of course, the frantic movements triggered an abrupt and searing pain that went through his shoulder to his back. Revealing that while his face had somehow been mended, he still had the pirates' sword nailed in his body. Disturbingly similar to how the real matadors would strike the bulls in the arenas. But neither the irony of that comparison, nor the reality of the sword lodged within him could come close to the terror he felt upon realizing that he could no longer feel or seemingly move his legs. Ceasing his rapid movements, he went to feel for his legs only to actually get a decent look at at his hands, now suddenly equipped with two inch long black nails on every finger. But looking past his hands, he saw that beginning at his waist the entire lower part of his body had become a long and thick black tail with a dark grey frill which ended at the tails tip. It was as though he had become some sort of bastardized version of a mer, but instead of having a fish tail he was given the tail of some sort of serpent or eel.

_'Anguila'_ Salazar thought as he stared in complete horror at this new appendage that had replaced his legs. _'Soy una anguila!'_ The shock, the horror and a tempest of other emotions swirled within his head enveloping him so completely that he failed to notice multiple dark forms approaching him from all sides. One in particular got so close that it could easily reach out and touch him should it choose to, although it did not… it merely stared at the panicking man for several moments, making no moves or motions to either harm or help him. Until a voice utterly deprived of emotion spoke only barely louder than a whisper.

"…you left us…"

These quiet words immediately pierced Salazar as deeply as the sword in his back and he twisted around attempting to see who had spoken to him, only to accidentally end up upside down and yet still staring straight up at his lieutenant. "L-Lesaro?" He questioned as he somehow managed to right his body in order to meet the one-eyed man's oddly stone gaze. It was a look he had never seen on Lesaro's face before and it was… unnerving, to say the least. But the pain from the sword drew his attention away from his lieutenants oddly frigid look. "Help me." Salazar hissed out. "Por favor, help me!"

But in spite of his pleas Lesaro remained as still as a statue, not making any moves to aid his capitán. "Help you?" He echoed icily. And in a moment his emotionless and cold demeanor melted away, quickly being replaced by one of burning, all-consuming rage. "HELP YOU?! YOU LEFT US ALL TO DIE YOU BASTARD!" Lesaro snarled at Salazar before lashing out and striking Armando across his face… leaving four deep cuts in his left cheek that immediately began to bleed tendrils of blood into the surrounding water. The action surprised Salazar who clumsily recoiled from the blow, only at that time did he get a decent look at his lieutenant.

Clearly visible in the moonlit waters Lesaro had been transformed as well. Only he had not been changed to be part eel as Salazar was, instead his lower half had been replaced with a distinctive sharks' tail and fins. Judging by the stripes running along his body he was most likely based upon a tiger shark. He also had been equipped with the same knife-like nails as his capitán and his bared teeth were truly as sharp as that of a real sharks. As Salazar looked in both disgust and fear at the creature that had once been his second in command, he began to notice the other forms in the water that had surrounded both of them. When he realized just what these shadowy creatures were, he felt as though his heart would give out. For surrounding him were at least a dozen of his men. All of them mutated into varying and deeply disturbing aquatic forms… and they were all staring at him with the same wrath filled glare as Lesaro.

"We served you in death just as we did in life;" His lieutenant spoke, his voice now as cold as winters ice. "we followed you on the hunt for Jack Sparrow… and when we are finally free of our curse, you betrayed all of us! Now look at what we have become! Many of the others look just as bad, if not worse!"

"The rest live?" Salazar questioned before he could stop himself. Something inside him screaming for him to remain as quiet as possible.

"And why would you care?!" The angry voice of officer Nico snapped from directly to his right, although he never came into his capitáns view.

"The rest of the crew is on the island… their new forms move better on land than we can." Lesaro continued but his voice had lost its rage and chill, now sounding somber and simply exhausted. Not that it made Salazar feel better, he hadn't even noticed that he'd begun moving backwards as the other members of his crew had started to advance towards him. With the only exception being Lesaro who remained stone still.

"Please, amigos I'm sorry-" That was exactly the worst thing he could have possibly said… not only did they not believe him, but it was as though those words fanned the flames of rage in their hearts and they suddenly rushed him. Not even allowing him the opportunity to finish what he had started to say. They immediately began to tear into their former capitán! Some slashing into his skin with blade like nails, others just pounding him with their fists… hell there was at least one man biting him with teeth that had become thin and pointed almost like needles. Salazar tried with all of his might to push them away. He pleaded and begged for them to stop… but his words were barely audible and must have come out as little more than screams. Finally, one individual clasped the sword in his back and yanked it out; the blood in the water surrounding this hellish scene must have doubled at that moment… this man prepared to run Salazar through with that blade while the others cleared away in order to give him a direct path to his target. Several of the abominations even held the writhing eel still. But before he could strike, Lesaros voice rang out again.

"Enough!" He commanded, stopping the crew immediately. "Do not kill him." As the protests from the raging men began Lesaro held up his hand quieting them down. "He doesn't deserve to die… he's not worth it." The shark mer made his way to were Salazar was, still held tightly in the grip of several men. Apparently Lesaro could maneuver his body easier then Salazar could at this point. He reached over and grabbed him by his arms, momentarily making Armado believe that his best friend was going to help him. Only those hopes were dashed in a single swift movement as Lesaro ripped the sleeves of his once magnificent coat… the mark of treason…

_…traitor…_

"…you don't deserve death…" His once closest friend whispered lowly. "You don't deserve to be free, while we suffer. So now we'll leave you to suffer just as we are… only this time you will suffer alone." And with that he released his grip on his former capitán, as did the rest of the men, letting him sink down to the awaiting seabed below. His blood swirling all around him like some sort of death shroud. He let himself fall, his eyes staring up at the hideous forms that had once been his crew. The crew he had sailed with for years as they had sought to destroy all the pirates who dared to infect the seas, the crew who had suffered with him in the living hell that was the Devils Triangle… and the crew he had left to die at the bottom of the sea without a second thought as he'd desperately tried to get to and kill Jack Sparrow. As Salazar finally landed on the sea floor, the impact of which stirring up large quantities of sediment most of which seemed to end up settling in his numerous open and raw wounds, he could do little more than emotionlessly watch the shadowy forms disappear into the dark water.

_The full weight of this newfound guilt upon his soul preventing him from moving..._

* * *

 

With a solemn eye, Lesaro watched Salazar fall. He felt nothing but contempt towards that… creature… which had once been his capitán and closest friend. But that was in the past now, the man Salazar had once been had died a long time ago and his lieutenant could no longer worry about him. Not when there were far more immediate problems to focus on. Whatever curse they'd been under had not broken when the trident was destroyed. Or if it had, then they'd been damned with a new one upon their deaths once again. It deeply disturbed Lesaro, looking down at the sharks tail which had now been grafted onto his body to replace his legs. Contrary to the venom laced words he had said to Salazar, he was not entirely sure that any of them actually could die. The thoughts he dared not listen to whispered in the back of his mind the possibility that this was how it was always to be. Would they never truly die and be at peace? What if by some miracle he and the others were to find freedom from whatever curse now afflicted them? Would another immediately take its place? The curse of the Triangle had been a seemingly never-ending nightmare and as hideous as this new form was, it was a marked improvement over the unfeeling lost soul he had been.

Even though his heart was now heavy with anger, resentment and bitterness. Lesaro turned to look at the members of his crew and he watched as the rage slowly ebbed away from their faces and before long they too were left with the same look of exhaustion that he wore so clearly. Radiating from the same bitterness within their weary spirits as the one-eyed man.

"What now… capitán?"

"Do not call me that!" The lieutenant snapped; his words coming out far harsher than he had originally intended if the way this man recoiled was anything to go by.

"But senor you are… now." This man explained in a low, hushed voice. Lesaro pinched the bridge of his nose, his elongated nails digging into the flesh but honestly, he could not bring himself to care at all. After inhaling deeply and steadying his internal resolve he turned his attention towards the present members of his crew.

"We will return to The Mary," Lesaro decided. His voice was strong but frigid and dark. "We all saw her didn't we? Somehow she was restored to her true glory when the trident was broken." He paused for a moment before gesturing to three members of the group before him. "You will head to the surface and inform the others on the island of this. The rest of you will come with me back to the ship to make preparations. We're going back to Spain." There was a noticeable hush in the breathing of the crew as this order fully registered, but once it did the men moved without any hesitation and raced past their new capitán. The way their aquatic forms moved through the dark water as well as how they were only faintly illuminated by the moons light caused them to barely resemble anything that harbored a human side… they were indistinguishable from the unnatural gliding monsters of the deep. The mere sight of this made Lesaro's stomach churn in disgust; revolted at what they had all become. As he turned around and began heading in the direction that the Silent Mary was anchored he suddenly found one of the men in front of him blocking his way. He recognized this to be one of the youngest members of the crew. A young man named Bracero; though Lesaro could not make out all of the details it would certainly seem that the boy had a body which was much more aligned with what a traditional mer would look like rather than the more monstrous forms that had afflicted many of the crew, himself and Salazar.

"Capitán Lesaro, what of Santos?" He asked in a voice that sounded just as nervous as he looked. "He's still at the bottom of the sea, turned to stone as though he looked upon the face of Medusa herself!" No doubt one of the more bizarre fates to have befallen one of their own. When Officer Santos had lost his life to the waves he had not awakened in some new horrific form, but rather his body had mysteriously turned to stone. Whether this was a blessing in that the youngest of the ships officers was truly free of the nightmares of this existence… or something much worse was yet to come for him, Lesaro was not sure. But Braceros question made him realize something and he turned to face his small group.

"We will leave none of our own behind. I don't know what has happened to Santos or if any others have suffered a similar fate but we won't leave them here. Search the area to make sure that everyone is accounted for." He stated, his one good eye shining clearly with an unreadable emotion. "We're going home… _all_ of us." No questions were asked, nearly all of his present crew hastily swimming off to conduct a thorough search of the entire area. Although none of them dared to venture where Salazar lay brutalized on the seafloor, lest they lose control and finish off their former capitán. The notion was a tempting one but none of the men wished to disobey Lesaros direct order. Nonetheless, in spite of the others members of the crew dispersing to search for any of their wayward companions, Officer Moss lingered behind.

"Lesaro," Antonio Moss whispered, barely catching his superiors' attention. "Earlier I looked everywhere but… I could not find Magda." His voice may have been very low but the concern in it was extremely noticeable. In fact one could argue that because Moss was being so quiet it was symbolic of just how concerned he truly was as the officer was well known to be one of the louder boisterous crewmen. Even in death he'd still retained his quick wit and vocal personality. To hear him talk in the manner that he was… it was really off-putting for Lesaro to hear.

"I'm sure that he must be here, don't worry we will find him amigo. We won't leave him behind." His words while meaning to be reassuring clearly were not having that desired effect. Although Moss's body was mostly veiled by darkness which made it difficult to see the major physical changes he had undergone, his nervous and jerky movements were easy to notice.

"I just have this terrible feeling. He's not here…" These words echoed through the water but they paled in comparison to the immense distress shining clearly within the mans eyes. But Lesaro reached over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. An action that steadied his subordinate if nothing else.

"Maybe… maybe he's free of the curse? He may very well have truly passed on." He surmised hopefully, praying that the doubts he carried were not detectable in his voice. "If anyone deserved to be free, he did." This was not an over exaggeration, but something that any member of the crew would have agreed on without hesitation. Magda had not only been the quietest man on the ship but also the calmest and certainly the most approachable. He was the man that everyone could talk to about anything and yet he never burdened anyone with his own problems. And Moss's distress over Magdas supposed disappearance was also to be expected, as those two were particularly close. Best amigos, yet they balanced each other. Moss was by his nature outgoing, overconfident and more than a little bit of a troublemaker whereas Magda and his eternally calm demeanor would just quietly follow his closest friend and ensure that he would not get into too much trouble, but obviously enjoying every minute of their companionship. "I assure you that we will search thoroughly." Lesaro reiterated to the now somewhat calmer officer. "After all…"

_"Where else could he be?"_

* * *

The moon had long begun its journey across the nights sky by the time that the ship, Silver Arrow, finally made port. The medium sized Galleon, looked as though she'd just sailed through a bad storm, her sails were torn and ragged in places while her hull appeared to have taken quite the beating and recently too. However, in spite of the battered ships approach and the late hour, the dock was bustling with activity. Sailors of all kinds were loading and unloading various types materials and supplies from the other ships and conversing with each other in loud predominately jovial tones. A few individuals took notice of the incoming ship and began the dockside preparations for when its crew would inevitably begin unloading her cargo, some even commenting on the ships oddly damaged exterior.

But the Arrow had barely dropped its anchor when a woman who'd apparently been pacing on its deck suddenly raced forwards and leapt onto the dock, clearly in no mood to wait until the gangplank was lowered. There were several surprised cries of "Runa!" or even "Captain Runa!" Yet in spite of an obviously hard landing, it took 'Runa' less than a second to recover and then she was up and tearing across the docks as though death itself was chasing her. Although even in her incredible hurry, the woman was extremely agile and gracefully avoided running into a multitude of people working on the docks without sacrificing any speed. Reaching the town, she raced through the streets that were surprisingly well illuminated by both the light of the full moon and the lights shining out from within the various homes and shops. Normally in other similar towns it would be rare for anything other than the taverns to be rowdy and alive at such an ungodly hour, most normal people would have been long asleep at this point. But that was clearly not the case here as there were even young children laughing and running all about and playing in the dark. Clearly the night was every bit as full of life as the day in this strange place.

The well-lit town did however allow for its residents to get a decent look at Runa as she dashed by. For starters she seemed to be a bit taller than average, standing at about six feet tall. Her skin was a sun kissed mocha and around her face she had a faint scattering of darker freckles, her eyes were the darkest shade of blue that could only be compared to the deep waters of the ocean itself. Her hair was a brown so dark it was nearly black and it was kept in a most unusual manner; with much of it cascading to a little past her shoulders but then, oddly enough, she had a long braid that went well past where the majority of her hair stopped, reaching down to the small of her back. Her clothes consisted of a white blouse with the traditional loose sleeves, a simple brown leather corset, two belts crisscrossing across her midsection with one holding a gleaming silver rapier with a large sapphire in its hilt on her left hip, and a lethal looking curved dagger as well as a short dark green side skirt on her right. She also wore dark brown pants with a noticeable tear a little bit above the left knee and well-worn brown knee-high boots. Lastly, she had a jeweled signet ring adorned with the letter 'B' on her right ring finger and around her neck was an unusual necklace consisting of a spiral seashell pendent with a deep blue crystal on a silver chain that was actually wrapped around her neck twice due to the said chain being too long.

However, the oddities of both this town and her own appearance were unimportant to this young woman as she abruptly turned down a twisted and heavily overgrown path leading her further away from the settlement and more towards the outskirts… where the moonlight shone down highlighting the form of a large and looming stone castle against the nights sky. She ran straight up to the heavy grand doors and pushed them open without seemingly any trouble. Yet upon entering the castle Runa no longer ran, but rather walked at a hurried pace through the grand hallways which were illuminated by a multitude of ornate torches positioned high upon the walls. It seemed that she knew exactly where she was going, navigating the winding corridors with such familiarity she must have done this a great multitude of times before. Finally, as Runa rounded another corner the sounds of voices carried from somewhere further down this particular hall and she began to run again, frantic to reach the-

**WHAM!**

With incredibly poor timing, a door opened and she ran right into it at top speed and then she fell backwards onto the floor. Groaning in a mix of pain and frustration…

"Why Miss Maelstrom, what in the world are you doing down there?" The surprised and yet slightly amused voice of a man spoke immediately drawing the woman's attention to its owner.

"Leland!" She groaned, her voice hoarse and low. No doubt resulting from both running headlong into the door as well as from her long sprint straight from the harbor. The man identified to be named Leland appeared to be in his mid-thirties; his eyes were an azure blue in color while his body was of a lean build and his face was clean-shaven and sharp, yet still quite attractive. His clothing was nothing short of distinctive and was composed of an ornately decorated blue and gold uniform and powder white wig. If this was anything to go by, he was clearly a high-ranking officer of some sort in the British Navy. In fact, the only thing that was even remotely off about his appearance was that he was wearing a strange necklace… it was some sort of crystal pendent woven into an ornate white gold chain, with the stone being the color of golden honey.

Leland chuckled lightly for a moment before reaching down and grabbing the young woman's hand and helping her up. "Up we go!"

"Leland!" Runa gasped again before having a mild coughing fit as she gradually was able to reclaim her lost breath. "Leland, did you feel it?!"

"No, but others have been claiming to have felt something 'unusual' earlier today." He recalled thoughtfully. "Rhea and William are already inside. It's likely Rhea knows something more about this than she's telling." With a quick nod Runa walked past Leland and into a large spacious library filled with towering bookshelves. Curiously all of the drapes were drawn preventing even the slightest glimmer of moonlight from shining into this room, instead the library was illuminated by hundreds of candles burning with eerie blue flames. Within the heart of this room were several long tables completely covered in open books, parchments, maps and other bits and bobs here and there. In spite of the dim light it was easy enough to make out the forms of two other individuals in this room.

The man named William, at first glance he was most likely around the same age as Leland and stood slightly taller than both him and Runa putting him at roughly about 6'2 and even with the eerie blue light it was clear that his skin was heavily tanned by the sun. This man's eyes were an unusual color of green which bordered on being more of a rich jade and he appeared to have a long thin scar which stretched from just above his right brow and down the right side of his face. But whereas Leland was clearly a member of the British Royal Navy, if this man's appearance was anything to go by he could not have been further from that occupation… as he clearly wore the garb of a pirate. He was a captain if the ornate dark green coat draped over his muscular body and the captain's tricorne hat was of any indication. Aside from his clothing it was also noticeable that he wore quite a bit of jewelry. There was a silver earring in his left ear, several jade colored beads woven into a mop of dark brown hair which spilled out from underneath his hat and went down the back of his coat, three jeweled rings on his right hand and lastly a green crystal wrapped tightly with a leather cord which hung from around his neck.

The second individual in the room, presumably the woman known as Rhea, appeared to be focusing her entire attention on a massive tome in front of her, one that actually folded out into varying sections rather than just opening like a normal book. Physically her appearance was the total opposite of Runa; for where Runas skin was a healthy mocha this woman's skin was a ghastly white. Not just pale but literally white, albino. Although in spite of this, her eyes were a very pale blue. Not the same shade of dark blue like Runas or an azure like Lelands, no her eyes seemed to match the blue flame candles which were scattered all around the room. Her long white hair went to roughly between her shoulder blades and was not restrained by any bands or ties, leading for a few stray hairs to have fallen into her face although she clearly was paying them no mind. Her clothing consisted of a black vest with a loose white ruffled undershirt, a black sash with three black and silver belts which were ornamented with at least three lethal looking daggers. She also wore black slacks and black boots and around her neck hung a crystal pendent on a silver chain, it was the same color as her eyes and the vast array of candles.

While it was not immediately clear if Rhea had noticed the new presence in the room, William certainly did and he suddenly smiled a large, wolfish smile at the newcomer. "Well Runa ye sure took yer' time gettin' here! I thought ye were supposed to be back a lot earlier than now!" His voice was loud and jolly but still sounded noticeably rough.

"Something happened William." She stated firmly, seemingly ignoring his comment. "Did you feel it?"

The pirate chuckled slightly as he adjusted his hat. "Well, I felt somethin' earlier… crew felt it too. We were in the tavern, and all at once the whole place jus' fell silent. Was right unnervin' if ye ask me."

"So you've stated." Leland said flatly as he crossed his arms and shot William an annoyed look. "I've felt nothing strange today; if it wasn't for a multitude of others claiming to have experienced something abnormal I'd just assume that you were just making this whole thing up."

"Aw, don't be sad Le-lay, yer' still a bit new to things 'round here." He chuckled, seeming to greatly enjoy as the annoyed look on Leland's face intensified until it bordered on anger and he was obviously trying to suppress a blush.

"Do **not** call me **that**!" He growled warningly, of course this only got a light barking laugh from William.

"Whatever ye' say Le-lay…"

"That's enough out of you two." Rhea stated firmly, her voice was as calm as an untouched lake at sunrise and yet sounded eerily like the chime of a silver bell. Either way she drew everyone's attention to her and silenced the growing dispute between the two men. "Leland, the reason you weren't able to feel anything was because you're not connected to the forces of magic, unlike most of us here on Haven. Williams connection is not that strong, but he still felt something… those of us with greater understanding of magic felt it far stronger than he did."

"So, you felt something to Rhea?" Runa injected as the other woman stood up and began carefully folding up the contents of the book. In spite of the poor lighting it showed that Rhea herself was quite tall herself, but still stood about two inches shorter than Runa.

"Aye." She said once she finished with the book and closed it, revealing it had a lock and clasp on its cover which Rhea secured with a small silver key before returning it to one of her pockets. "I felt something. I imagine most everyone in Haven did. But I doubt that anyone felt it nearly as strongly as you did Runa, with your connection to the sea being what it is… what did it feel like to you?"

"It was as though a tidal wave crashed over my very soul. I couldn't move or breathe; it was like there was an anchor on my chest forcing all of the air out of my lungs. I… I'll admit, I lost consciousness when I first felt it." She muttered darkly with clear undertones of embarrassment in her voice. She also began to fiddle with the signet ring on her right hand, slipping it off of her finger and just rolling it about in her hand like some kind of nervous habit. It was highly doubtful that she even knew she was doing it as she continued with her story. "I awoke some time later to Ragetti dumping a whole bucket of seawater on my face." While there was a tentative chuckle from William at this, Runa showed no sign of amusement. If anything, her expression just continued to darken. "And that's when the sea… changed." The pirates' laughter died just as quickly as it had begun and a serious expression slowly formed on his face, something that anyone who knew him would attest was a rarity even given his profession.

"What do you mean by changed?" Leland pressed, not liking the sound of where this conversation was apparently heading. "The seas around Haven and the other islands seemed a bit choppy today but hardly dangerous."

"Well once you pass the Sea-Spires and the fog and get out into the open water it's a completely different matter entirely. The water was churning in a way I've never seen. I may not have been a captain for nearly as long as some of the other sailors around here, but I know the sea. And something **changed**. We were lucky the Arrow made it back in one piece." Runa explained, her voice was controlled but undoubtedly troubled. "What is going on Rhea? Surly you must have some explanation about what is happening?"

Initially the albino woman said nothing as her focus had seemingly shifted to one of the many candles on the table, one whose blue flame was flickering and dying out. Slowly she outstretched her hand and made a faint motion and suddenly the flame came roaring back, burning every bit as bright as the others if not brighter. "Just because I am gifted in the Arcane Arts does not mean I know everything; I don't know what exactly has happened… but you said it yourself, the sea has changed. I agree with your conclusion on that. I believe that something just infused the ocean with more power than we can even begin to fathom. But how or why… I'm afraid that I am at a loss to explain any of that."

"If it's truly as powerful as you think it is, why are we not seeing this shift here at Haven?" Leland inquired.

"Yer' forgettin' the legend of this place Leland." William said with an annoyed roll of his eyes, even though his wolfish smile had returned it was not quite as broad as before. "It was said that Calypso herself rose these seven Isles from beneath the waves. Even created the Spires an' the fog that keep 'em hidden from the rest of the world."

"Not to mention that I know for certain that particular legend is true." Rhea injected but did not continue to elaborate upon, although she succeeded in returning the conversation to its original course. "At any rate the people should be safe as long as they remain on or around the island chain. Unfortunately, I'm very worried about what these developments will mean should we need supplies from other islands or worse yet the mainland. Trade is going to be a nightmare for the foreseeable future."

"Damn… I suppose this will make any attempt to return to Saint Martin even more difficult." The Englishman groaned as he rubbed his temples, feeling the first pangs of a headache beginning. "I have to get back. I don't much care for the thought of leaving Scarfield unattended for too long."

"I'll never understand why ye' transferred out there. Yer' an Admiral ain'tcha? Ye' can practically pick where ye go; so why did ye' choose to go to that sorry lil' spit of land?"

"It was not a permanent transfer Will. I received a letter from a young woman explaining that John Scarfield was not only abusing his power and his subordinates, but was also personally harassing and threatening her for declining his advances. I took the allegations seriously, so I transferred to Saint Martin as to take control of things there. And to remind Scarfield of his responsibility to the people, not to himself." Leland retorted. His voice showing clear agitation, granted none of it was directed at the pirate. "Of course, when I confronted him about it he claimed that she'd bewitched him. Went on a whole rant about how she was really a witch and she needed to pay for her vile accusations. Well, I could tell he was lying and just trying to cover his own hide. So I warned him that if he so much as spoke this woman's name again I'd have him demoted before he could finish adding the word 'witch' to the sentence. Unfortunately, I'm beginning to fear I slipped away to Haven before he had been sufficiently chastised."

"You're a good man Leland. Not many others would have bothered to do anything, let alone intervene." Rhea said softly, a small yet kind smile appeared briefly upon her nearly spectral features. However, this ghost of a smile vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "But regardless of the situation, I'm afraid you're going to have to remain here for quite some time." She observed. Her voice having suddenly gained a distinctive chill. "Whatever is happening out there… It's only just beginning. You were expecting to leave in the morning? You'd best go and inform your crew that will not be the case."

Leland seemed to inwardly debate his options, no doubt considering the benefits and risks overall. But then he sighed in defeat and gave a nod before he dismissed himself from this little meeting. Of course less than a moment later William followed after him. "Ye' could have just shot him." He suggested merrily as the duo made their way out towards the castles front door. "Boom! Problem solved." And even from the opposite end of the hallway, Rhea and Runa could hear Leland's groan of ever growing annoyance.

"Quite a pair those two." Rhea observed with a slight chuckle.

"They deserve each other." Runa agreed flatly, although the slight curve of her lips indicated that she did not mean it as coldly as it came out. But then her attention refocused on Rhea and the fidgeting with the signet ring began anew. "Do you really have no idea what could be causing this Rhea?"

"I already told you that I don't." The ghostly woman said with the faintest tinge of irritation in her voice at being asked a question she had already answered before. "However… I do have one theory, but I'm afraid it isn't of much use." And she turned to face Runa, her pale eyes shining so bright it was as though the flames were behind her eyes rather than just shimmering reflections. It was an eerie, if not outright frightening look.

_"Somewhere… someone just fucked up spectacularly."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it for chapter 1 folks! It certainly came out longer than I originally intended, I don't think I'll make the other chapters quite as long as this one if only so I'll be able to update faster. Also, this is my first attempt at ever writing a POTC fic and I really trying to keep the way the characters talk accurate to that era; although I'll admit if Salazar could say 'Bootleg Turn' the term of which didn't exist until the prohibition period I think I may take a few creative liberties here and there but rest assured it will be used sparingly. If anyone has any suggestions or constructive criticisms I'd be happy to hear them. But nonconstructive flames for stupid things will be ignored… Well, I hoped that you all enjoyed it and will continue too! As always please remember to Read and Review! I tend to update a bit faster if I get more reviews… just saying ^^;
> 
> Also, I figured I'd post the translations to the Spanish phrases I used throughout the story here at the bottom just in case anyone was curious as to what they meant.
> 
> Pesadilla - Nightmare
> 
> Por favor perdóname – Please forgive me
> 
> Anguila - Eel
> 
> Soy una anguila - I'm an eel


	2. One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow… I am so sorry about how late this chapter was everyone. The only explanation I have is that of the honest truth… I started writing this chapter knowing very distinctly what I wanted to accomplish in it, only no matter what I did, I just could not get it to flow right. Finally, over 14,000 words in I said screw it and I had to start the whole thing over. Needless to say, no future chapter will EVER take quite as long to post as this one did… especially not the next one since the one good thing that came of all that wasted time is that I have most of the next chapter already completed.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

_One Year Later_

_The crew of the Bronze Stag were engaged in a fierce struggle with a monster…_

The look of sheer terror reflected within the eyes of the men as they worked frantically to secure dozens of lines and nets that had been cast over the ships starboard side was unmistakable. The sailors were rushing around the deck, as something violently splashed from amidst the mess of netting while the waters along the side of the vessel turned red from the abominations blood. Drawn by a multitude of harpoons and hooks that had wounded it. While the churning sea concealed the majority of the thrashing creature from view, it did offer the occasional glimpse of a scaly fish-like body and it did nothing to muffle the loud shrieks and wails which seemed to bubble up from beneath the water's surface, as though the gates of hell had opened up just beneath their ship. Finally one of the deckhands practically screeched the word _'Secured!'_ and immediately all hands were at the lines, as the men pulled with all of their might to haul this beast out of the water.

 There was a single tense moment before the nets were brought up; and the badly wounded form of a mermaid was thrown onto the deck with all the respect given to a cache of dead and rotting fish. The poor creature scrambled for a moment, confused and in terrible pain as it became clearer that the net she was wrapped in was lined with cruel hooks which had long torn into her tender flesh. A harpoon had been stabbed through her tail just above the delicate yet bloody and tattered fin, it was also clear that she had been stabbed by other means numerous times, judging by the deep and bloody cuts that marred her body. She righted herself up into a sitting position as the crew of soldiers who were dressed in inky black uniforms surrounded her, their expressions twisting from fear to something eerily akin to that of a snarling pack of wild dogs. One man in particular whose uniform was slightly more decorated than the rest slowly approached, drawing his sword and judging by the look shining clearly in his sharp green eyes he was closing in for the kill. Unlike the others his expression was set and emotionless. But just as he was nearly upon her-

"Let me see it." A voice cut through the air like a white-hot knife, catching the men by surprise and making them all stand up visibly straighter as the owner of the voice approached them. It was an older man possibly in his late 40's and he was… immensely unpleasant to look at. Not because he was ugly, although he was far from attractive and his face could easily be compared to that of a rabid bulldog, but it was because every inch of him seem to be emitting the aura of both malicious cruelty and dark intent. Clearly he was not a happy man and if the reactions of the sailors was anything to go by he clearly made others around him as miserable as he seemingly was. Physically he had brown eyes that seemed to harbor a certain nearly soulless quality that could easily unnerve even the most fearless of men. His dark brown hair was tied back into a loose, messy ponytail. He was wearing what was once an expensive and ornately decorated shirt, but now it appeared to have been badly ripped in several places and it was unbuttoned showing his muscular torso underneath, or at least it would have had most of his chest not been heavily wrapped in bandages with a multitude of blood stains seeping through the fabric. He also wore a pair of black pants with a pair of strangely crafted daggers looped onto his belt and black boots.

The man with the more decorated uniform suddenly became visibly quite unnerved, a stark contrast from his previously emotionless appearance. "Captain Mercer! Y-You should be resting sir; we can-" He trailed off, suddenly finding himself unable to continue with his statement when the newcomers' eyes met his… and the look of silent rage behind them silenced any words he still had to say.

This Captain Mercer then locked those same dark eyes onto the young mermaid, whose tail had just begun to separate into a pair of legs, one of which remained impaled with the harpoon. She was now looking around her eyes wide with terror as he approached and then crouched down until he was directly next to her trembling frame. Desperate, in pain and afraid, she did the only thing that she could think to do… she lunged forward, her teeth bared with the intent to bite this man or at the very least frighten him back. But these actions were nothing short of anticipated… and faster than most eyes could follow Captain Mercer's right hand unsheathed one of the hellishly curved daggers, more of a large fishhook really, and swung it forward catching underneath the mermaids' lower jaw and driving it upward through the soft tissue and embedding it deep in the roof of her mouth… There was a terrible pause as the shock and agony needed a second to fully register, but right as the screaming began he tore the blade outward taking her entire lower jaw off and even most of her front teeth as the dagger ripped through the majority of her face. No sooner did he free the blade of the carnage did he flip it around, and then stab it down the bloodied hole where a mouth had once been… and he kept driving it down, slicing through her throat until it finally reached her collarbone to which he cruelly twisted the knife before yanking it free, splattering the deck with blood and meat in all directions. The poor mermaid twitched and gurgled for several agonizing moments before the life finally drained from her eyes and she went still and silent.

Several members of the crew began to cough lightly and look away from the sight of the horrifically mutilated body and yet they were somehow able to retain most of their composure. The only exception was one man, clearly much younger than the rest. He could not hold in his revolt and he broke rank to go throw up over the ships side. Captain Mercer gave this sailor a half-interested glance that was surprisingly filled with disgust and loathe.

"Make sure that man never sails on one of my hunts again." He growled as he picked off a few pieces of flesh that still lingered on his blade and carelessly flicked them onto the bloody deck. "I will not tolerate any weakness in those who sail with me."

"Sir…" The man who was presumably the second in command muttered, all to eagerly looking away from the gory mess on the deck. "It's already hard to recruit men for these ventures. We cannot afford to be picky with the ones at least willing to enlist."

"How many?" The captain growled, not giving his lieutenants words even the slightest bit of consideration.

"Sir?"

"How many beasts have we killed so far on this hunt?" He reiterated with a noticeable roll of his eyes, as though what he'd meant should have been obvious.

"Twelve so far, including the newest. And… not including the one-" The man stopped as his captain suddenly fixed that hellish gaze upon him. The lieutenant gulped slightly before continuing. "Not including the one that got away." Mercer growled irritably before rapidly turning on his heel and striding towards the ships helm, although his sudden movements apparently caused him a great deal of discomfort. Even upon reaching the wheel he needed to support himself heavily on it. His breathing quickened although he was clearly taking very shallow breaths. It would be logical to assume that he also had several broken ribs to go along with his more visible injuries.

"I have been hunting hells abominations all over this godless world Penwald; from the moors of Ireland to the coast of Africa and I never saw anything like that… that thing before. Not even after the _'Great Ruination.'_ That was no mere mer." He grunted as he fought through the pain and regained his momentarily lost composure.

"Yes sir." The lieutenant, now revealed to be named Penwald agreed. "Looked more like some sort of sea serpent than a mer. Had I not been on several of these hunts with you I would have been shocked to learn that there actually were males in the species." He shuddered visibly, apparently appalled at the disturbing thoughts and images his mind had just conjured. "But still, that monster took two harpoons and still managed to slam you with that disgusting body before escaping."

"And rip its damned claws across my chest." The captain added bitterly. "I have never let a demon escape me before. Not ever. And I have no intention of starting now." He hissed his eyes now locked onto the horizon. "I'll tear its heart out for this humiliation."

"Sir you are in no condition to fight with that creature again!" Penwald stated, only for his captains' head to snap in his direction. Eyes blazing in anger.

"Are you questioning me?!"

"No sir… just stating a fact." His second in command said as he took a nervous step backwards. "Besides, we are running low on supplies. We need to restock our harpoons and gunpowder and recruit new soldiers if possible; otherwise we cannot continue to send these demons back to hell. If we fail who will take up the responsibility?" His carefully chosen words seemed to have their desired effect, clearly making his captain actually consider them.

"Fine… we'll return to port." He begrudgingly agreed. "I suppose I need to report back to Lord-Holier-Than-Thou anyway. Since he's funding this crusade. I'll also have to inform him that we still haven't come across the girl he's so desperately trying to retrieve." A strange look suddenly overshadowed his face, as he became noticeably distracted from everything around him. Captain Mercer became... visibly saddened. "What was my older brother thinking when he so faithfully served the little worm of a man? I may never know… but unlike Ian, my allegiance is not free."

And so, Captain Charles Mercer quietly watched the members of his crew begin the preparations to return back to their base of operations, Penwald having immediately begun barking orders to his men to stow the corpse of the mermaid below deck with the others and then every man was to get to their post as they were going to be returning to Port Royal. Obviously, He knew his captain was distracted and he did not wish to give him a chance to change his mind. Still, internally Mercer was no longer reminiscing and was back to raging. Although somewhere inside he knew that Penwald was right for advising him to return to port and resupply, it still felt like he was abandoning his mission. A mission which had long become his sole reason for existence. His mind kept wandering back to the monstrosity that had escaped him just last night and he gradually began to feel himself relaxing. After all he'd stabbed the beast with the last harpoon himself and given what savage creatures mers were they'd most likely eat the injured monstrosity at the first opportunity to present itself. Even if the beast wasn't a mer, Mercers aim was true and without help it would be dead soon enough. And if by some miracle it did somehow manage to survive he'd find it again… and just like every other creature of magic that dared to draw breath in this world he'd send it howling back down to hell.

_After all…_

_This hunt had only just begun…_

* * *

 

_It had been one year..._

_But that year felt like an eternity…_

The first light of dawn had only begun to appear in the sky when Salazar finally managed to pull his mangled and bloody body out of the ocean and onto the beach. If anyone who had known him before his transformation was to look at him now, they would have a hard time recognizing him as the once legendary and feared pirate hunter… and not just because of the additional aquatic features he'd acquired. The once proud man's body was badly beaten and broken, his face was thin and gaunt, exhausted eyes deprived of any light and his hair was a wild and tangled mess. He had two harpoons impaled into his body, one went through the lower part of his right shoulder and the other was lodged deep in his eel like torso. The remnants of a net lined with cruel hooks and barbs was tightly tangled all around his withered frame. He struggled to pull himself further away from the water, his serpentine body was numb and useless now and felt like he was pulling a dead weight and it made every little inch he progressed feel more like a mile. But no matter how badly he wanted to he didn't stop, he  _couldn't_ stop. Not until he made it into the cave which he'd spied from the water's edge. The effort of this endeavor had his muscles screaming in protest, but he just kept his bloodshot eyes focused on his destination even though he could barely see straight… and in his condition, it was nothing short of amazing that he could even move.

Finally, he managed to pull himself into the darkness of the caves mouth, to which he was instantly greeted with the feeling of a damp stone floor beneath his body. The deeper in he went the cooler the air became until he finally found the main chamber which on a strange note, was partially illuminated by sweeping patterns of glowing algae on the walls. Allowing the battered creature at least a faint bit of light to see his surroundings. He could see scatterings of stalagmites growing up from various places on the caves floor and stalactites hanging menacingly down from the ceiling. There was also a multitude of shallow and surprisingly warm pools of stagnant seawater. No doubt the remnants from a high tide which had flooded the cavern some time ago. Having no more energy left, he collapsed into one of the deeper pools with a soft splash. Yet the warm water didn't offer any comfort as it washed over his wounds, many of which had started to bleed freely once again. It seemed to irritate them, the water almost undoubtedly carrying bacteria and toxins that Salazar found himself too tired to care about. His injuries were fresh, but he had been in a bad state to start with… In the triangle Salazar thought he had seen firsthand what hell was. He also believed he knew what it was to suffer and by all accounts he did, he had suffered… but when he and his crew had finally been freed, he had dared to believe that the nightmare was over and that no matter what challenges the future held, nothing could possibly be as horrible as the dark evil place they had escaped from. But he had been wrong … _oh so very wrong_ … in believing that nothing could have been worse. For in this world there were so many different ways for someone to suffer, and each one was as vile and cruel as the last. Salazar had forgotten that fact and thus the world saw fit to remind him of it. His current state was proof of that.

For this last year he had existed in a realm of bitter torment, drifting through the seemingly endless sea alone. He'd suffered through long nights that were cold and dark, from both the unfeeling waters and the bitter loneliness. Struggling to find sleep that all too often never came and when it finally did many times he would find himself trapped in a nightmare ridden abyss that would leave him more exhausted than before he had closed his eyes. He'd been starving almost from the beginning, having had a hell of a time trying to catch fish and when he'd succeeded, it had dawned on him that he had no means to cook it… and after resigning to what he had to do, he forced himself to take a bite from a live and squirming creature. It was an act of desperation that made him scream when he realized just what he had been reduced too. But above everything else, what truly made him suffer now was living with an overwhelming guilt that nothing could ever even begin to alleviate. The scene with the Pearls anchor replayed over and over in his mind, never giving him any peace. He would hear Lesaro, his best friend, begging for help. He would see his crew and hear their panicked cries… and yet he would only focus on the Sparrow. Make no mistake, none of this meant his hatred for Jack Sparrow had lessened. On the contrary, he still held Jack accountable for much of the misery he felt. Only now it was rivaled by regret and evenly matched with self-disgust.

However, it was as he had wandered listlessly through the ocean that he had learned the disturbing and horrible truth of what the  **real**  consequences that the breaking of Poseidon's Trident had upon the world. While he had possessed that boy Henry Turner, there had been moments where he had, albeit unintentionally, seen into the boys' mind. He'd caught glimpses of his father and his story of being bound to the  _Flying Dutchman_. In spite of everything he could still feel the boys determination to free the cursed man from that unholy ship, no matter what the price. Well… the price turned out to be far greater than what anyone could have ever imagined.

There had been storms, far stronger and fiercer than any others in known history. Waves had risen so high into the sky they were able to touch the storm clouds that accompanied them on their rampage. These walls of water moved as though they had been controlled by some strange force, a living will that only sought to rain destruction down upon the land with malicious and unbridled fury. The storms had raged constantly for several months. Salazar had been both awed and horrified at the destruction and perhaps even moreso at how seemingly random the devastation was. He had lost count of how many islands he had found swallowed whole by the sea, dragged down to the seafloor. He'd seen the plants and the trees all dead and brown, choked from the seawater. They formed these disturbing submerged forests that just reeked of death and decay. Then there were the settlements that had also been consumed. Entire towns, villages, even whole cities and hundreds, no, thousands of lives destroyed... maybe more, depending on how far inland the seas wrath had spread. He'd seen horrible things as he had drifted through these underwater nightmares. One image in particular that he knew would haunt his already plagued dreams was the vision of a young woman, clasping her infant so tightly that even death would not loosen her grip. He'd spied their bodies floating almost ethereally in the structure that he surmised to have once been their home. There were so many more images just as horrible as this… he could not help but wonder whether the young Turner boy still found this an acceptable price to pay for his fathers' freedom. And without a captain for the  _Dutchman_ , who would ferry all of these lost souls to the afterlife? Perhaps some questions were best left unanswered…

Yet for every island which succumbed to the waves, there would be the ones that were simply left alone. Many were badly damaged by the storms while others were miraculously untouched. Or at least they appeared to be untouched from what little he could make out, as he always looked on from a distance where he would not be noticed. He'd found out the hard way that any attention he gained from the locals would surly lead to panicked attempts to either flee the area as fast as possible, or worse they'd attack him outright. Most of the time though these actions would be futile as upon mastering the movements of his new twisted body he'd become too fast for the average individual to hit. He couldn't exactly blame them for their fear, he was hideous. And from what little he'd been able to gather it would seem that people had begun to lay the blame for all the destruction on the heads of  _'monsters'_  which apparently encompassed merfolk in that very general description.

In fact they not only laid the blame on mers, many people were far too happy to seek revenge on the creatures they believed responsible for all of the death and destruction. Men who'd taken up the title of  _'Hunters'_  whose sole task was to hunt down any beasts from myths and legends and slaughter them. Which was the explanation of how Salazar had now found himself in the situation that he was now in. Laying half dead in a cave god only knew where. He shifted slightly in the water, making an attempt to curl in on himself as much as he could without aggravating his wounds any more than necessary. A bitter chill ran down his spine, yet the tattered remnants of his uniform and coat were no longer offering any warmth. He should have thrown them away a long time ago, but no matter how hard he tried he could never bring himself to part with them. Especially not his precious medals, which had been earned by the valor of a man he no longer was. He knew that he was very sick, he wasn't well before he had been nearly gutted alive by the Hunters and the aftermath of the fight had only accelerated whatever it was that had been ailing him. Lying in a pool of filthy, slimy water was undoubtedly going to be the final nail in his coffin.

' _So this is how it ends…'_  He thought bitterly to himself as his vision started to swim. Shadows and hallucinations now beginning to dance before his eyes. The glowing algae upon the walls began to form strange, moving patterns as he struggled to get his eyes to focus but to no avail. He would swear that he saw tiny worms beginning to crawl and slither all over his body but if he made any attempt to move and brush them off he could neither feel them nor touch them. Something which only reaffirmed that they were not really there. He had lost track of how long he'd been lying in the water but judging by what he assumed was the sunlight coming from where the caves mouth presumably was it had been several hours at least. Lastly, he almost swore that he saw two children, a boy who could not have been older than ten and a girl who appeared to be in her early to mid-teenage years; both stood in the mouth of the cavern framed by the sunlight and looking at him with looks of shock and fear written so clear on their young faces. But alas they were but tricks his overly exhausted mind continued to play on him for just as soon as he had seen them, they had disappeared. Not that it even mattered to Salazar at this point, he was to exhausted. Too mentally and emotionally torn to even care what was happening anymore. And he did what he should have done a long time ago…

_He just closed his eyes and let the looming darkness take him..._

* * *

 

The shores of Haven were normally peaceful and serene... the warm sun illuminating the nearly pristine beaches as the ever-shifting waves of the sea gently washed over the sands. Occasionally they exposed an unusual looking seashell or maybe even a small piece of sea glass long buried and forgotten. It was just past one of these particularly long stretches of beach where one was just far enough away from the harbor and town that the sounds of the men and women working were faint upon the wind yet close enough that the tall masts of the ships could still be seen that this incredible tranquility was far more noticeable. On days like this that the Isle of Haven seemed to be a true paradise. It was upon a high cliff on the far side of the island that there stood an old stone lighthouse. It was of a spacious size, consisting of a main floor, an upstairs with a skylight and presumably a basement or at least a crawl space if the doors leading below the house were anything to go by. The tower of the lighthouse was completely covered in ivy which was blooming with beautiful yet strange blue blossoms and its ever-turning reflective mirror bore a very odd, very large clear white crystal in its center. But in the light of the day it was unclear just what its purpose was. A short ways away from the lighthouse there was a scattering of a few trees that actually led into a thick forest which blanketed the majority of the isle, climbing up the mountainsides and painting everything in vibrant and lush shades of green.

Sitting at a makeshift table underneath a clustering of these trees was Runa Maelstrom. Given the air of peace that lay over this entire area she seemed to be quite relaxed and reclined in her chair as she was deeply engrossed in a book of famous poetry. On the table there was actually a small pile of other books which appeared to be a mix between various types of mythology and history and finally there was a teapot of freshly made tea and two teacups. A short distance away from Runa there was a hammock strung up between two trees where Rhea appeared to be sleeping. A black tricorne pushed down over her eyes to keep the afternoon sun out of her face. Although this said tricorne was a bit unusual in design as its front corn was bigger than the other two and divided so that its silhouette resembled horns. Due to this, on more than one occasion William had joked that Rhea may have had a taste in hats similar to Davy Jones. But the joke had never discouraged Rhea from wearing something she found comfortable.

Runa sighed as she looked up from her book and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. Casting her gaze upwards and took notice of several owls comfortably perched throughout the high branches of the trees. The sight brought a small smile to her face and after a moment of observing the birds she turned her attention to her motionless companion. "Are you awake Rhea?" There was no answer, the only sound coming from the sea below the cliffs. "Rhea?"

"If I wasn't before I am now." The albino woman stated flatly, although she did not move from her comfortable position in the hammock. "What's bothering you?" She inquired, the semi-annoyed tone in her voice dissolving into a calm one.

"Don't you feel like we should be doing something right now?" Runa asked as she closed the book and placed it on the table before picking up her teacup and sipping the tea slowly. "It's been so long since I've had a day to myself like this, it feels… strange."

"Aye, it has been a long time. Days like this have become few and far between with the world in such a state." Rhea mused just as a smile slowly appeared on the visible part of her face. "Although you just returned from a supply run with double what we required for half the price. You of all people have earned a break."

"That is where the problem lies Rhea." Runa muttered. "All I did was barter for what was needed. I have a talent for it, or so I've been told. It's just a matter of business, nothing more."

"Just business you say." The sound of amusement in Rheas voice becoming more evident at these words. "That is certainly not how I've heard others describe what you do. I once heard Pintel describe your so-called style of  _'bartering'_  as neutering someone with your words; Ragetti couldn't stop laughing at this comparison."

Oh those two just enjoy watching-"

"You break the souls of hardened men, often without even raising your voice? Aye, they find a lot of amusement in that. I ought to know, remember they sail with me under my flag moreso than with you. Yet they sail with you when possible, because they enjoy watching you work." Runa just rolled her eyes and chuckled a bit before turning to look out at the vast ocean. Her gaze set out upon the horizon, yet the longer she looked out at the sea the more her smile faded. Her eyes seemed to lose focus, as though she was becoming lost to the depths of her own mind and a silence fell between the two women. Although it was not necessarily an uncomfortable one. However the silence did not last long, nor was Runa allowed to stay locked in her thoughts as there suddenly came the sound of someone running up the pathway to where the pair were relaxing.

"Rhea!" The voice of a young girl actually made the woman sit upright in her hammock and push her hat up out of her eyes and onto her head. Racing straight towards their location were two children, a young boy and an older girl.

"Juliana? Caleb? What is going on?" The woman demanded, although no sooner had she gotten out of the hammock had the two kids reached her and began trying to simultaneously tell her something important and catch their lost breath. Unable to decipher any of the gibberish either of them were trying to say, she took a moment to take notice of their physical appearances. The boy had hair the color of sand and had eyes of a deep hazel brown, while the girl had ebony black hair and had rich emerald colored eyes. Both were wearing simple clothing and had bare feet, the boy with dirty brown breeches covered in sand and mud and the girl a simple dress that was also quite dirty at the bottom... in fact the mud and sand aside there were suspicious red stains upon their feet and faintly upon their clothing. "Are you two hurt?"

"No, b-but there's somethin' in one of the caves by the beach! I think…" The girl had to stop as she seemed unable to catch her breath and quickly descended into having a violent coughing fit. But she fought through it and managed to hold off coughing in order to finish what she wanted to say. "I think it's a man, but he's hurt r-real bad!"

"All right calm down Julie, calm down." Rhea said as she gently patted the girl on the back. Knowing that this young one was not well. "Everything is going to be fine. We'll take care of it."

"Can you take us to where you saw this man?" Runa injected, her attention having left the sea as soon as she'd heard the kids approach. Rhea gave her companion a cold look, at the same time Runa realized exactly how uncaring about the seemingly sick girl she sounded. After another moment or so of steadying her breathing, Julie stood up shakily and nodded. Her little brother immediately at her side, holding her hand. Silently indicating he was there if she needed him.

The walk down from the lighthouse was mostly silent, it was not until reaching the beach that any conversation really began and it was mostly in the form of questions about the supposed creature in the cave.

"We were lookin' for shells." Juliana explained. "I found a book in the castle that told how to grind them up to make a paint and we wanted to make mother some special paint for a gift; but then we found blood on the edge of the beach goin' into one of the sea caves…"

"There was blood everywhere." The little boy, Caleb, finally spoke. His voice was soft and low, clearly he was more of a quiet type than his sister.

"Aye, and when we went inside there was someone in there." The girl stated, obviously this was the conclusion of their little tale and rather abruptly the two of them stopped walking. Their eyes locking directly on a rocky opening in a wall of stone which lay directly in front of them. "T-That's it. That's the cave." She added fighting back another small cough.

Without any words or hesitation Rhea walked past the two children and began to cautiously examine the entrance of the cavern. Noting of the large amount of discolored sand which led up to the mouth of the cave and the damp, musty smell of stagnant seawater mixed with the faintest and yet far too familiar scent of blood. A glance over her shoulder towards Runa who stood only a few inches behind her; judging by the expression written so clearly on the other woman's face she'd come to the same conclusion Rhea had. Being that his could potentially be very dangerous.

 "You two stay out here." Runa stated firmly as she followed after her friend who had had already begun to walk down the corridor which led to the main chamber. It should have been a relatively quick walk, but the stone floor was slick and Runa nearly slipped on it twice, so time was sacrificed for more cautious steps. Although in spite of the necessary caution, Rheas entire attention was focused on what lie ahead of them and her concern continued to grow considering the smell of blood was becoming stronger the further inside they went. Finally, upon entering the heart of the cave the glowing algae on the walls offered a better view of the interior… including the vast amount of blood slathered across the floor and the motionless serpentine form lying half submerged in a pool of rancid seawater.

"Oh my god." Runa whispered lowly. "What… what is he?" She asked looking over at Rhea whose own eyes were wide with shock. But she snapped out of it fairly quickly and deftly moved to the waters edge in order to get a better view of just what this creature was. "Is he dead?"

"No, he's alive but just barely." The albino woman whispered as she got close enough to hear the faint but labored breathing. "As for what he is… I have no idea. He's not like any mer I've ever seen." Her eyes wandered to the harpoons impaled through his body and she cautiously reached over and just as her hand barely touched the oddly intricate handle of one of those said harpoons did the eyes of this creature suddenly snap open-

"Rhea look out!" Runa yelled just as the long eel tail whipped up and slammed exactly where the other woman had just been standing. The impact was loud and made a sickening  **crack**  resound through the entire cave. The attack having only narrowly missed the albinos head by mere inches. She jumped back further out of the way, landing nearer Runa in a crouched position, but held an arm out stopping the other from advancing as she had just drawn her sword as this stranger flailed weakly in the water trying to force his body out of the pit but it became quite clear that he lacked the physical strength to do so.

"Easy, he's no threat to us. I don't even think he knows what he's doing." Rhea whispered firmly shooting Runa a warning look before returning her attention to the strange man and her eyes softened considerably. "Calm down, no ones going to hurt you… we want to help." Her voice was quiet and calming. She spoke in a way that one would speak to a cornered and injured animal, which this poor soul before her might as well have been. It almost gave Rhea herself physical pain to listen to him struggle to draw in those ragged wheezing breaths. He was looking at her with eyes that were essentially unseeing, glazed over and driven only by instinct and adrenaline. His arms shook violently as he held his body as upright as best he could manage, before finally collapsing once again. Seeing an opportunity Rhea cautiously approached once more, remaining in the same crouched position and moving on all fours with a skill that seemed nearly inhuman. "Shhhh…" She was now beside him and was very much aware of the foggy bloodshot eyes staring up at her. Without a word she placed her hand gently on the side of his face, her skin was cool like the stone of the cave and such a harsh contrast to his which was hot and damp. It must have felt soothing as the stranger sighed at the touch, his eyes watered before rolling into his head and whatever state of semi-consciousness he was in wore off and he returned to full unconsciousness. Once Rhea was sure of this she moved to a better position and began attempting to haul him up. "Runa help me get him out of here."

"Are you certain that's a good idea?" Runa asked as she sheathed her sword and slowly approached her friend and the unconscious stranger. "He nearly took your head off."

"I doubt he'll even remember he did anything." Was the only response she revived as Rhea cautiously slung his right arm over her shoulders, being as mindful as she could of the harpoon in his back.

"Oh, I think he might remember that." The taller woman grumbled as she nearly slipped yet again as she got near the pool. "I think he hurt himself even moreso with that little maneuver." She stated as she grabbed his other arm and draped it across her shoulders and the two together pulled him up and with a healthy amount of vigilance they began to make their way out of the cave. Both were careful not to go to fast and risk falling and hurting either themselves or this bizarre stranger. "Wow, he's light. You'd think with how big he is he'd be a lot heavier."

"Aye he should be. But I think he's nothing but bones under that uniform." Rhea mumbled as they stepped out of the cave and into the brilliant sunlight. Immediately there was a pair of startled gasps from Caleb and Julie, as they took a few steps backwards at the sight of the injured man from the cave, now out in the daylight and thus allowing them to see him for what he really was… far more a creature than a man really. This left both of them unable to do more than stare.

"Go get your mother you two. As well as any nurses she can spare, tell them to come to the lighthouse." Rhea ordered. "Be sure to tell Cobalt that I have something here she's never seen before." Needing no further instructions, Julie gave her brothers hand a slight tug and the two of them darted off towards the town. But they did not get far before Juliana began to cough again, pausing until it passed to which they began moving onwards granted at a far slower pace.

"We're taking him back up to your house then? Are you sure about that?" Runa asked as she carefully adjusted her grip on the man's arm.

"It's preferable to walking him all the way through town and then up to the castle where the healers are. Unless you have another option to offer it's the one I'm going with." Rhea confirmed. "If the way Juliana was coughing is any indication, we can take this nice and slow. Don't jostle his wounds if you can help it."

"We are  ** _dragging_**  the majority of his wounds. That renders your request null." This smarmy answer only earned her an annoyed glare to which Runa rolled her eyes in response. "Fine… lets just get him up there." And with that thus began a painstakingly slow process of getting back up to the lighthouse. For while the beach was mercifully devoid of obstacles, having to navigate the heavily wooded path back was a different story entirely. Traversing the rugged terrain whilst carrying a half dead eel mer was tricky at best and an absolute nightmare at worst. Aside from nearly dropping the unconscious man four times, and aggravating one of the embedded harpoons enough that he actually cried out in agony… a trip which normally would only take about twenty minutes at longest ended up taking over an hour.

Upon finally reaching the lighthouse Runa had to support the mans weight completely for a several minutes while Rhea opened the door and hastily slipped inside. To which the sounds of a multitude of things shifting around could be heard, no doubt a quick tidy up and moving of items that were in the way. Unsurprising, as Runa knew that normally Rhea lived here alone and didn't have company over to visit all that often, so if she got deeply engrossed in her work things tended to get a tad messy inside her house. Come to think of it, the most frequent visitors to her home were Runa herself and Rheas niece Feria. Although Runa knew the term 'niece' was not completely accurate as Rhea had tried to explain multiple times, but it nonetheless summed up the relationship those two had well enough so she continued to use it regardless. Growing a tad impatient she shifted her grip on the unconscious creature and sighed lowly. Fortunately holding his entire weight was blessedly easy on her, for as it turned out Runa was often described as being… abnormally strong. Even when compared to men. A gift that had come in handy from time to time... when it had not been a massive hindrance in her life anyway.

"Alright you can bring him in. Please pardon the mess." Rheas voice cut both through the air and Runa's bitter thoughts and she maneuvered her living burden into the lighthouse her friend called home.

The interior was actually a lot nicer than one would have initially expected, the furniture was not only of good craftsmanship, it looked truly comfortable as well. However, as aforementioned, the comfortable setting was more than a little cluttered and disorganized. As scattered all throughout the room were also the most unusual collection of strange relics, idols and talismans that the eye had ever seen and the table was covered in open books and papers that were obviously of an arcane nature. Just as Runa had suspected, Rhea had obviously been working on some sort of project until recently and had yet to clean up the aftermath. With the obvious exception being the path she had just made which led to one of her spare rooms. As Runa made her way inside she took note of one particular open door which led into a room filled with countless jars of ingredients that were undoubtedly used in potion making and a familiar massive book with a locked clasp lay right in the center of what was undoubtedly Rheas personal workspace. Where she normally kept her most important and private works. Clearly she'd rushed to move some of the more important items back into this room and forgot to close the door.

"In here." Rhea said motioning to the guest room that had also been somewhat hurriedly cleaned up. The bed was thankfully quite large, although there was more than a moment of trouble when they were laying the stranger down, careful to position him on his left side and then they worked to maneuver the long coils of his body onto the bed which they somehow managed to do.

"Well… what now." Runa asked. Then quickly began to marvel at just how stupid the words sounded once she actually said them out loud.

"Now we wait for Cobalt to get here." Rhea replied with a slight shrug. "Not much else we can do until then I'm afraid." It was amusing to note however that as the two women had just begun to contemplate what else they could do, neither had taken notice of a third individual coming up directly behind them until hands suddenly clasped each of their shoulders tightly and this person suddenly began to laugh.

"Then it's a good thing I won't be makin' you wait then!" A woman's voice asked through the loud laughter. The unexpected touch nearly made Runa jump out of her skin with an indignant yelp whilst Rhea just calmly turned to look upon the newcomer, presumably this was Juliana and Caleb's mother Cobalt. A rather renowned individual on the island, Cobalt was in charge of the hospital which was located in the castle that overlooked the town. She referred to herself as a healer rather than a nurse or a doctor for the word best described her outlook on her job… and without any doubt she was the most skilled healer in all of Haven. Looking at her it was obvious to see that she was quite attractive. Standing only slightly shorter than Rhea, Cobalt had eyes that were a vibrant sea green in color and her hair was a rich shade of gold. Her pale skin had a healthy tan, indicating she did quite a bit of work outside. For her clothing she wore a very simple green and white dress that appeared a little frayed in some places and simplistic brown boots. Slung over her shoulder was a rather heavy looking leather bag packed with unknown contents… yet the one piece of her ensemble that stood out as being unusual was the necklace she was wearing. It was clearly very finely crafted, made of white gold and ornamented with silver and obsidian beads and positioned right in its center was a large yet unidentifiable jewel, a shining black and blue stone which was cut into a stunning sunburst pattern. "Sorry to scare you there Runa," She snickered as the taller woman tried in vain to brush off her rather indignant outburst. It was also easy to note that her strange accent seemed to be predominately English although mixed with hints of something else. An accent that was similar to Rheas albeit a bit rougher in a sense. And it was certainly less proper than Runas was, as she always tended to speak so eloquently she could have put most British nobles to shame. "Now just what is this I hear about an injured-" Cobalt found her words dying in her throat as her eyes landed on the motionless figure on the bed. Immediately her jovial demeanor melted away to one of pure seriousness and she moved to the bedside and began to look him over, seemingly unconcerned by his monstrous appearance.

"I believe that you now see the reason I called you all the way out here." Rhea stated as she watched Cobalts movements as the healer checked his pulse and took note of the heat radiating off his skin. Clearly she wasn't paying any attention to whatever Rhea was saying.

"By the gods… I… I didn't entirely believe my children when they said you'd found-"

"I also asked you to bring additional help."

"Aye, but Leland's ship made port at dawn and many of his men had injuries that needed tendin'. I couldn't spare any of my nurses, so I had to come alone." Cobalt explained grimly, finally acknowledging the other two presences in the room.

"Leland was not supposed to return for at least another three months." Runa asked, her voice calm but carried notes of concern and even urgency. "What in the world is he doing back now?"

The healer sighed and rubbed her temples. "From what he tells me, they were ambushed by three different pirate crews at once. They somehow made it out alive, but their ship was damaged and ultimately it was easier for them to make it back here rather than meet up with the rest of the fleet."

"No doubt William will be happy he's back. But, Leland may have a hard time explaining where he and his crew disappeared to after such an incident… I hope he knows what he's doing." Rhea said, more to herself than to anyone else, before shaking her head and refocusing on the task currently at hand. "Since you can't tend to his wounds by yourself, I'll assist you. What will you need for this?"

"Other than a good strong knife, I have everythin' we'll be needin'." Cobalt explained as she started pulling out various types of bandages, medicines and salves from her bag as Rhea selected one of the three daggers she always had on her sash and unsheathed the particularly wicked looking blade.

"And what will you have me do? Or do you even need me at all?" Runa injected not liking the thought of just standing around and doing nothing.

"I'll be needin' you both soon enough. As Rhea said, I won't be able to properly bandage him without help. But first that ratty thing he's wearin' has to come off. Alright, both of you, help me move him." She ordered. Receiving no complaints or objections as Rhea and Runa were quick to do as she asked. Moving the strangers body into a more upright position to which Cobalt took the knife from Rhea and began cutting away the remains of the coat and uniform. It was not nearly as hard as it should have been, the garments were so completely ruined they practically fell apart on their own, to which they were unceremoniously dumped onto the floor to be discarded later. She not only cut away the remnants of his clothing but also sliced through the hooked netting he was also tangled in, somehow masterfully avoiding cutting her own hands on the hooks that lined it. Only once the last scraps of fabric and net fell to the floor did they truly get a decent look at the man's body, which was in a far worse state than any of them could have imagined.

Looking at the more human portion of his body one would have to marvel at just how emaciated he truly was; as every rib was completely visible and his backbone far to pronounced for anyone's liking. His chest and abdomen were completely marred with cuts and stab wounds of varying severity and it did not take a genius to know they were going fester without treatment. He also sported scars all across the entire length of his body, apparently he'd taken a really brutal beating in the past and had not sought any help afterwards, and if he had he hadn't found any. Rhea studied the wounds, not letting her gaze linger on any particular one for very long and when she pulled back and looked at him entirely, her eyes were filled with a deep resounding pity. She could only imagine what broken path had brought this lost soul to this point… as she had a great sympathy for those who knew what suffering was.

"Right, now here comes the hard part." The blonde muttered under her breath as she carefully looked over the two harpoons impaled in her patients' body. "You two need to hold him as steady as you can, and be ready… half dead or not he's gonna flail when these things come out. And if he hits you with that tail, whatever part of you he hits is gonna  _break_."

"Are you sure you know what you are doing?" Runa inquired, slightly nervous as she made sure that she had as good a grip as she could on the stranger.

"You forget dear Runa that my mate is the best blacksmith in all of Haven? He taught me how to get these wretched things out, and I've had to pull them out of several mers as of late." Cobalt explained with a note of pride. "That's not to say this won't be bad; this is gonna be a right mess… are you both ready?" And with that she clasped the first harpoon, the one in his shoulder, and with a twist she pulled the wretched thing out. He screamed all right, screamed and flailed, but mercifully there was no violent outburst, contrary to what Cobalt expected. Though the harpoon was now out of his body, it had taken a decent chunk of his flesh with it. Granted it was far less than one would expect from such a cruel weapon. The process was repeated for the second harpoon only this time he didn't cry out... whatever strength he had was long gone. And with that unpleasant task completed, thus began the longer and far more tedious task of treating and bandaging his numerous injuries.

* * *

 

_Many Hours passed…_

The once shining sun had long been eclipsed by storm clouds that rumbled loudly, bringing with them the dark promise of torrential rains and raging winds. The once calm sea seemed to have turned angry as it crashed hard against the shore and yet high on the cliff above the roiling waves a beam of light now shone out from the lighthouses tower. The large white crystal was glowing brightly as it quietly turned in its place and the mirror reflected its beam out to sea. Within the stone building the three women were only now just finishing their long arduous task; the stranger laying as still as death upon the bed. His body was wrapped in bandages that in many sections showed blood already beginning to seep through and a cool damp cloth was gently laid across his brow.

"I think that we've done all we can… for now." The tired healer said as she wiped her bloody hands with a spare rag and watched as Rhea draped a second blanket over the unconscious figure. Although her attention momentarily drifted over to where Runa stood looking out the window at the looming storm. "I must admit Runa, for someone who never stitched a wound closed before you actually did pretty good!"

"This is only the third time in my life I've sewn  _anything_." Was the rather blunt response. "That storm looks like trouble though, we will be lucky to make it back to town before it starts."

"Aye you will." Cobalt agreed, although this earned her a rather strange look from Rhea as she had been adjusting the blankets and contemplating fetching another one. "Well this isn't over; I dread the what'll happen if his fever worsens. I'm honestly surprised he's still drawin' breath. I need to be here should-"

"You need to be with your  **daughter**." Rhea interrupted. "I can watch him. I learned first aid from you Cobalt… taught me in case it was needed when I was at sea. And I believe I was of more than adequate helping you today."

"Aye, that you were… and I am worried about my stubborn girl." She admitted as she shook her head. "For two weeks she was ill, only seemed better about three days ago."

"Go home." The albino stated gently. "Be with your family." As it was, she knew exactly what to say in order to be convincing, and realizing that Rhea was right Cobalt sighed and nodded. She then went into her bag and began rooting around in it before pulling out a jar of what looked like powdered herbs.

"Tend the bandages when he bleeds through them, keep him warm and mind his fever." She explained handing the jar to Rhea. "You can mix this with some tea, or add it to a thin broth. But get him to drink it down, it should help his body heal." She then began to gather what few supplies were left over from this ordeal, preparing to leave.

"I'm afraid there's not much else I'd be able to help with. So, I'll be heading back as well." Runa added as she helped Cobalt pick up the last few items she missed. "I have to get the books I left outside anyway."

"Hold on one moment." Rhea said halting her friends' departure. "You're more likely to see Leland before I do, so if you'd be so kind as to give him these." She tossed something over to Runa and upon catching it the other woman realized it was a ruined scrap of fabric that somehow still had three tarnished naval medals attached to it. "Could you ask him just what those are… and where our friend here most likely came across them?" Silently pocketing the medals Runa gave a quick motion of her hand indicating she would, before both she and Cobalt finally departed… the latter pausing in the lighthouses doorway for a moment, looking back at Rhea like she wanted to say something of some presumed importance. Although her hesitation went either unnoticed by the white woman or deliberately ignored and after a second more Cobalt turned and left deciding whatever she wanted to say would best wait for another day.

A deathly silence fell over the lighthouse after that, honestly Rhea found herself feeling somewhat relieved that her home was once again her own.  _'Well almost anyway...'_  She thought as her eyes landed upon her new houseguest. Under normal circumstances Rhea would not normally have been so keen on having a stranger unexpectedly wander into her usually private world. But the overwhelming sense of pity she felt for this man and the sorry state he was in had overshadowed her usual desire for solitude… driven by phantom memories of darker times in her life where she would have given anything to have had someone offer a hand to help her when she'd so gravely needed it. Help that never came. To appease this side of herself was the main reason she'd allowed him to stay. Well that, and then of course there was another reason, a bit more unconventional… a burning curiosity. Rhea had encountered many unique creatures over the course of her life and worked with and studied magics of both dark and light properties, but she'd never seen anything quite as bizarre as the sight currently before her. While she had some theories as to what he was, nothing went beyond that.

"Just who are you stranger?" Rhea whispered as she carefully removed the now warm cloth and dipped it into a nearby basin of cool water and then gently placed it back on his head.

" _And what have I gotten myself into…"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it for this chapter and again I do apologize for the ridiculously long wait. While I don't want to give to many spoilers, I will say that the next chapter will heavily focus on what became of poor Magda over the past year… As always please remember to Read and Review! ^_^


	3. Living Disease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so apparently my chapter that wouldn’t take to long to post obviously took a ridiculously long time to actually finally finish and get up… Unfortunately, this is the result of once again finishing a chapter but being unhappy with the final result and thus having no choice but to start over. But even moreso the delay with this chapter was caused by some good news, as I have FINALLY found a job! Great news for me and as I actually get acclimated to it I hope it won’t interfere to much with my ability to write! Although I’m now going to set my preferred time it takes for me to update to about 2-3 weeks at maximum. 
> 
> So anyways… the next chapter is here and I do hope everyone enjoys it HOWEVER this chapter has a label:
> 
> Warning: Graphic depiction of a man LITERALLY rotting away in this chapter, turn away right now if your easily squeamish!

**Chapter 3**

_Living Disease_

 

**(Day 1)**

_Everything was wrong…_

For that first day, the situation had seemed so surreal that Magda honestly wondered if it was all some sort of illusion. A new torture the world had decided to inflict upon him in retaliation for a sin he must have unknowingly committed. Although he knew this was not actually the case he couldn’t stop himself from entertaining these thoughts. It was not like he had much else he could do, being locked in a ratty cell on board a pirate ship.

At first he had just stared at the bars for hours after he’d been locked in this cage like an animal, letting the new harsh reality sink in. His broken arm was in constant and excruciating pain and he knew that he needed to set the bones soon or else it would never heal right. If he didn’t he could potentially lose the ability to use his arm at all… and yet… he didn’t make any actions to do so. He kept staring blankly outwards. The shards of bone poking through his sleeve were splashed with crimson blood which also thoroughly soaked a good percentage of the left side of his coat. Magda just remained motionless, even as he listened to the immense revelry coming from directly above him. Clearly the pirates were enjoying some sort of party. Undoubtedly celebrating the final demise of the crew of the Silent Mary and her legendary Capitán. Or perhaps the festivities were a means to give the other pirate, Barbossa, a proper send off.

It was painful to hear, to be forced to listen to them celebrating the demise of his crew. The men he had he’d served and died with. They had all been strong but good people, some even had families waiting for them back home in Spain. Though a few of the younger ones had become sweet on some of the young ladies of Havana, where the Silent Mary and her crew had been stationed when they were not out hunting pirates. It may not have been their homeland, but Cuba was a nice enough place and its people were kind. He could remember many a night when after returning from one of their hunts, successful and happy that the world was a little safer because of their actions, the crew of The Mary had gone to the local tavern and celebrated. The rafters would always be ringing with the songs of Spain for hours on end.  

He’d never been any good at singing… or really interacting with people much. It had been Moss who had always dragged him to these events. Things he might have been to shy or reclusive to join in on his own, yet it was somehow easier to participate when the younger officer grabbed him by the hand and made him feel welcome. The cheer his crew felt had been almost contagious in those days and he felt blessed to have just been a part of it. There were the few times when even Capitán Salazar had joined them in the tavern after such victories. While an imposing and somewhat cold man to work with, the great Armando Salazar had always been surprisingly awkward in social settings. His single mindedness and drive towards his goals often came at the expense of social life. To Magdas knowledge Armando had never had any lovers in his life nor any close friends… with the only exception being Lesaro. Those two had known each other long before they had joined the Navy, and no doubt it was Lesaro who pushed his friend to come and enjoy himself every now and again at the tavern. On these few and rare times he’d seen Salazar actually smile, true happy smiles.

These memories burned a hole into Magdas heart and he found tears of sorrow and pain stinging his eyes as they quietly cascaded down his cheeks. Everyone he’d ever cared about was gone and their screams echoed in his mind until it was all he could hear, even drowning out the sound of the ocean and the pirates wretched celebration.

_He closed his eyes and mourned in silence…_

* * *

 

**(Week 1)**

There was no consistency to whoever brought him rations, both the time his captors came with the delivery and what he was brought. Magda was clearly very far from being the pirates’ main priority. Whenever someone did bother to come into the brig they’d more or less thrown the food onto the floor, only begrudgingly not doing the same with the water. Jack Sparrow had clearly not yet figured out just what he wanted to do with his captive. But whatever decision he was considering was taking a frustratingly long time to decide upon. A week had gone by at a snails pace, but so had his captivity in the Devils Triangle… so sadly the feeling of time passing slowly was something he was at least familiar with. However, that was where the aforementioned familiarity ended. As things that should have come naturally to him felt so vastly strange. Things like breathing, the pangs of hunger, and sleep. Oh, how he had forgotten about such a luxury as the dead have no need of it. Sleep quickly became his only pleasure, his only escape from the world around him.

He spent a great deal of time with his eyes closed trying hard to not be awake, trying not to think about everything that had happened… trying not to think too deeply if there had been anything else he could have done to help the others. Although this line of thought had led him to review Salazars actions in the same situation. He found that while initially he was disgusted with his Capitán’s actions, how he had forsaken his crew for another attempt to kill Jack Sparrow… but as time crawled by he found that his anger mostly faded. It wasn’t as though there was anything Salazar could have done to change the outcome of what happened. There was nothing else he could have done either… still that knowledge did very little to ease the pain of their deaths. He could do little more than pray that wherever their spirits were now, they were at peace.

Magda suddenly winced as a pang of pain stabbed through him, preventing from drawing in even a single breath. But it did not come from his arm which at this point he had tried in vain to set properly. No, this pain radiated from deep within his chest. But it was brief, barely lasting three seconds… yet it made him pause. This pain was one he had experienced prior to his death in the Triangle. But it couldn’t be _that_ … could it?

The thought was so deliciously ironic that it made the officer laugh a cold laugh which seemed to echo off the walls of the empty brig. Between his ruined arm which he knew without a doubt was going to fester and what that stabbing pain certainly signaled had returned with his life… perhaps it would not be long before he rejoined his crew after all…

* * *

 

**(Week 3)**

The girl, Carina, and the boy Salazar had possessed, Henry, had finally departed from the ship. The only reason Magda knew this was because it was all the pair of pirates that had come down to leave him food could talk about. He’d recognized the two from when they had been brought aboard The Mary with the rest of Barbossas crew. Murtogg and Mullroy were their names if he was not mistaken. He only remembered them because in spite of being brought aboard the ghost ship, the pair were surprisingly talkative. They had noisily made their way down into the brig and deposited the wooden plate of truly pitiful rations onto the floor of his cell.

“I will certainly miss lookin’ at her. She was a right beauty, that was for certain.” The one name Mullroy commented to his friend who nodded in complete agreement, as an equal parts dreamy and stupid look plastered itself on both of their faces as they seemed to forget about the prisoner sitting on the floor in the cell before them. While Magda couldn’t have cared less about the fate of the young man and woman who’d played such a key part in the downfall of his crew, listening to these two idiots talk was almost refreshing considering that he had been left alone in the dark for weeks at this point with nothing but his own inner voice for company. The fact that neither of them stared at him like he was some kind of monstrous animal was actually a welcome change.

“So how is our guest doin’ gentlemen?” A voice, a familiar voice, rang through the darkness surprising the two pirates and causing Magdas head to snap up. His eyes staring at the form of Jack Sparrow as he walked down the stairs and came further into Magdas prison. The two fools stopped talking as their Captain approached them and the cell containing the Spanish officer and a cheeky smile slowly spread across his face. “Hola mate. I was hopin’ we could have a nice lil’ chat eh?” Although his tone was pleasant enough the look in his eyes was considerably more serious and the moronic duo backed up in order to give their Captain some space with the prisoner… even if they remained just close enough to overhear and watch what transpired.

Magda glared at Jack, as his entire being filled with a cold rage. “Diablo pájaro… has venido matarme?” He asked in a dark, hushed voice. Every word he said in his native tongue sounded as though it was laced with a deadly venom.

Jacks smile quickly faded. “Oh bugger…” He turned to the eavesdropping pair and motioned repeatedly to the Spaniard. “Does he even speak English?”

“I speak it better than you.” Magda growled, his unblinking eyes staring up at the man responsible for so much misery and torment it could not be fathomed. “Have you decided my fate?”

“Come now mate, no need to get angry.” He said simply, unaware of just how these words made his prisoners blood boil. “With the happy couple headin’ off, I figured now was a good a time as any to tell you what I’m thinking we should do in regards to your current state of affairs. Yer’ captains gone mate, you yerself ain’t much of a threat, so I don’t see any reason to keep you down ‘ere any longer. We’ll drop ye’ off at the next port and just let bygones be bygones savy?”

“And where do you intend to leave me?” The question was asked as his tone grew increasingly malevolent and there was something about it that sounded… _off_ … and Jack fidgeted slightly, starting to feel an unpleasant chill making its way up his spine.

“Well, we’re now headin’ towards Tortuga-”

“A pirate port. You would leave me forsaken in a place where I would be dead within an hour.” Magda hissed and with a speed that seemed unnatural, he was at the bars of his cell and grabbed Jack by the front of his coat, forcing him to stare into his enraged hazel eyes. His actions were accompanied by a strong odor that made everything worse. A smell only comparable to a sick animal no one had bothered to put out of its misery. “You think that I am angry?” He seethed, seeming to disregard everything else Jack had said. “No… if you could feel what I feel, you would know that I am not angry hombre. My crew, mi familia, are all dead. They were good men who had friends, loved ones and lives that **_you_** not only ended, but **_damned_** to suffer in ways which you cannot even begin to comprehend. If you could feel what I feel… you would know that I am so far beyond **_angry_** that there are no words to describe it!” He stopped noting how the eavesdroppers were now standing alongside their Captain, pistols drawn and pointed at him. Whatever energy had filled Magda began to rapidly fade, just as an untold agony ripped through him. As somehow, he had used his damaged arm to grab Sparrow. Strange considering that it had steadily been going numb over the last few weeks and it had left him barely able to move it at all. He had to pry his own swollen and enflamed fingers off of Jack to which his arm then became useless and he let it slump to his side like a piece of rancid meat. Jack backed up, the unpleasant chill from earlier evolved to feeling outright sickened by this entire ordeal.

“So… not to Tortuga then?”

“If you let me out of here, then I will kill you.” Magda said with a small shrug before re-fixing his gaze onto the Pirate Captain before him. “I will kill ANY pirate that I can.”

“Yer’ in a right state, I don’t think you’d be able to do all that much harm.” Jack observed. “I guess I won’t be letting you out after all. Maybe we’ll talk at another time when yer’ in a more agreeable mood.” He muttered as he turned around to leave. In reality Jack just wanted the man off of his ship, he felt… a great deal of pity for him and despite a growing feeling of nausea and revolt at the Spaniards physical state, the thought of having an obviously badly injured and ill man left in the brig to potentially die made him very uncomfortable. Yet Jack was unwilling to simply let the man go, as he did not want to project an image of weakness. He’d been through so many mutinies at this point he was unwilling to run the risk of it happening again and costing him his precious Black Pearl once more. Not to mention that he already had a bit of an idea in place for the instance the Spaniard was uncooperative. While admittedly nothing was going to stand in between him and a celebratory romp through the port of Tortuga, afterwards he would simply drop his captive off at a random port with no warning to him. Although Sparrow did plan on spending a great deal of time at his beloved pirate port... Perhaps if he was feeling generous he may find one of the rare doctors in the town and send him to look at the mans arm.

But his little visit had caused something to stir within his prisoner. Magda was undoubtedly angry at the pirate and the whole situation in general, but this was something else. It was faint and dark and he could feel it trying to emerge from deep within his very core. **“I’m rotting…”** The words came out in his voice but the tone was definitely not one he’d ever used before, it was far too dark. Magda couldn’t even explain why he had been so compelled to open his mouth and let those words come out. It was unnerving, it was almost as though _he_ didn’t say them… more like some part of him, some _tiny_ part of him had said it. A part he could not control.

Jack stopped and cast an equally confused and disturbed look back at his prisoner. But all he saw was the larger man suddenly become weak and fall against the bars as a dizzy spell overtook him and he slid back down to what was becoming his usual position in a crumpled heap on the cells floor.

There were no more words exchanged between them that day and after a moment or so Jack, flanked by his two crewmates left the darkness of the brig and made their way up and out into the warm sunlight.

Although Jack could not shake that something was... _wrong…_

* * *

 

**(Month 3)**

It had taken far longer than it should have to reach Tortuga, the sea seemed locked in a perpetual storm which had severely waylaid the voyage there. The waves had battered the Black Pearl and Magda had found himself being thrown around his cell like a ragdoll. Upon reaching the port town the crew had hastily disembarked during what may have been a lull in the bad weather and had no doubt made their way to the nearest whorehouse… or at least that was what Magda speculated.

In fact he’d been all but forgotten by the pirates, the rate they delivered him his measly rations had severely decreased. Barely remembering to bring him something once every four or even five days. The result was that he had begun to waste away much faster than before… although he was fairly certain that his condition was not entirely to blame on his captors.

Within his first week of the curse being broken he had suspected that something was wrong when a familiar pain had taken the breath from his lungs and ripped through his abdomen. But in the long weeks that had followed he knew… he knew that his body had been regenerated to the same state he’d been in when he’d died… exactly the same in every way.

_In short, Miguel Magda was dying._

Fate must have had a very twisted sense of humor indeed, once again filling his body with the same disease which had been eating him away prior to his death in the triangle. He’d been sick for a long time, at times struggling just to draw a faint breath into his lungs. It had been only through fortifying his will and his immense self-control that his weakness had not been detected by any of his crewmates. No doubt they would have been incised to learn of his illness which he’d so diligently hidden from them all, especially Moss… but also taking into consideration that he was not truly well enough to have been actively serving aboard The Mary. But he had concealed the truth in order to serve with his crew one final time. For after they’d completed their mission of eradicating the last pirates that had dared to sail the seas, the Silent Mary would have returned to Havana and restocked before setting sail back to Spain, no doubt to a hero’s welcome. Although he’d long known in his heart that he would never lay eyes on his homeland again, he’d never return to his home just outside of the port of Valencia. And yet he’d been fine with that. If his last actions in this world made it safer for other kind and innocent people, then perhaps his soul could find rest for all eternity.

Yet things had not played out the way he had hoped, they had never succeeded in their mission… and now after everything, after all the suffering and misery, _this_ was how it was going to end for him. Alone, sick and feeling like he was rotting alive in the brig of a pirate ship. Although the more Magda thought about it he couldn’t help but laugh hollowly at the situation… It wasn’t funny at all but he still laughed... yet he stopped as a sudden wave of extreme nausea tore through his insides and the air was forced out of him completely, and he struggled for several long minutes to try and bring any air into his diseased lungs. Eventually succeeding just as his vision had started to swim. The pain in his empty insides and burning dry throat reminding him that he was not yet free from his torment. But the attack had weakened him just enough that he could feel the beginnings of sleep mercifully starting to grip him, just as the darkness of the brig seemed to come alive as it had many times before. And like all the times before this, Magda ignored the shadows creeping into his cell, ignored their whispering and cruel voices… and ignored the smell of rotten meat emanating from his left arm which had long gone numb at this point.

He was lucky to have fallen asleep before realizing the coat on his damaged arm seemed to be moving… something was moving in his arm… _just beneath his rotting skin…_

* * *

 

**(Month 5)**

Pacing was definitely not something Jack Sparrow was known for doing, and yet on this particular night he found that he was doing quite a bit of it. It had been several months since the Black Pearl had made port at Tortuga and even longer since he’d spoken with the Spanish Officer currently locked in the brig of his ship… not that he hadn’t tried to talk to him three more times since then. Unfortunately, the man had been in a deep sleep during all three of these visits and nothing Jack did could rouse him. He tried yelling and even poked him a few times with his sword but he simply would not stir. On the third visit Jack opted to just wait until he woke up. However, this was an equally useless endeavor because the man just did not wake and heaven knows Jack waited for hours before losing his patience and giving up. If it hadn’t been for the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest or the ever so subtle movement of his eyes behind the eyelids he would have sworn that the man was dead… heaven knows he smelled like a corpse.

But on this night, he’d done something he admittedly should have done a long time ago. He had arranged for a doctor to come and treat him. Although the reason for the delay was not that Sparrow had simply forgotten. Quite frankly Jack found it hard to find a doctor that would actually look at the Spaniard; even though he was mum on the fact that the man was once a member of the Silent Mary and served El Matador del Mar. In Tortuga there were few doctors that were willing to offer help to an individual who was not a pirate themselves or directly a member of a pirate’s family. The individual he’d finally coaxed into giving his prisoner a look over was not actually from Tortuga but hailed from one of the merchant ships forced to seek shelter in Tortugas harbor from the seemingly never-ending storms that raged upon the sea. Even now Jack could hear the rain continuing to mercilessly beat against the windows of his cabin. This doctor had been willing to treat his prisoner, granted he wanted a small fee for his troubles. Which was not surprising, but what did surprise Jack was how little money he’d asked for… barely a pittance, which Jack paid. Yet the more he considered it, the more Sparrow suspected that him even demanding a fee was to make it seem to his crewmates that he was not eager to offer any help to pirates. Even if it was a pirate seeking aid for a captive, something Jack could only guess did not occur often.

Nevertheless, he was rather abruptly pulled from his thoughts when the door to his cabin swung open and the doctor strode in. Sopping wet, his eyes wide and staring and his skin had paled considerably from when Jack had seen him less than an hour ago. The man didn’t yell or scream in spite of the look on his face betraying the fact that he clearly wanted to. He was an older man with a broad, heavier frame than most. He appeared to be in his mid-sixties, with thinning hair which once upon a time may have been red in color. He just stood there staring in Jacks general direction without actually looking at him. His breathing was loud and ragged as though he had just run ten miles… and on his right arm were several thin, red marks that easily showed his patient had not been cooperative to say the least. Although the fact that he apparently had the strength to fight off the doctor was rather disconcerting and it was several long minutes before the old man said anything.

 “You’ve a very sick man in there Mista’ Sparrow.” The doctor muttered lowly, his voice thick with a heavy accent but what the said accent was derived from was anyone’s guess.

 “That’s ‘ _Captain’_ Jack Sparrow.” Jack hastily corrected. Internally moaning about how difficult it seemed to be for people to remember that. “I take it he was not in a very obliging mood?”

“No… no he wasn’.” The man trailed off, his breathing beginning to steady but his wide eyes and deathly pallor remained unchanged.

“Can’t you do, I dunno, anythin’ for him? I know there’s probably no savin’ that arm but-”

“It’s not jus’ his arm Mista’ Sparrow.” The doctor interrupted. “Da’ sickness he’s got runs deep; it’s in his blood and bones too.” The doctor suddenly began to nervously wring his hands as he chose his next words very carefully. “Maybe… even deeper than that. He’s sick in his soul, Mista’ Sparrow.”

“Come again mate?” There was a moment of silence before the doctor finally made eye contact with Jack, and the true depth of the mans fear radiated out through every inch of his pockmarked face. He wasn’t just frightened, he was downright terrified!

“If it was jus’ his flesh it would be simple, but da’ poison is in his soul. He’s a dyin’ man full of pain. His soul is sick… and he’s fulla’ _plague_ ‘cause of it.” He explained, his voice shaking as he spoke and his eyes were wide and unblinking.

“Plague?” That was the main word Jack focused on and was it definitely not a word the pirate wanted to hear. Any sort of plague could all to easily tear its way through not only his ship, but probably all of Tortuga as well. It certainly would not be the first time that a deadly sickness had cut a bloody path through the pirate town and while it would most likely happen again Jack was certain that he did not want to be the cause of it! The healers words settled it; if there was one thing that Jack was now dead sure of, it was that he wanted this man off of his ship. Everything else be damned. He was going to have to brave the storms and dump the Spaniard at the first port he happened upon. But as he started to pull out an extra silver piece to give the old doctor, he spoke again in an ominous and cold voice.

“Don’t let him out.”

Well, that surly got the pirate Captain to stop dead in his tracks. “What?”

“Don’t let him out of yer’ brig.” The doctor warned again. “There be somethin’ so wrong there that for yer’ sake and the sake of yer’ crew… don’t let him out.”

“You said that he’s dyin’ down in there mate.” Jack stated as he looked at the old healer like he had suddenly grown a second head. Was this really the same man who had willing come aboard a pirate’s vessel and treat a sick prisoner? This was a pretty abrupt change of face for someone who was not a pirate themselves. “I’m not just gonna let him suffer in there. I’ll drop him off-”

“He’ll kill everythin’ around him. He’s sick with somethin’ I don’t know what. But wherever you drop him off, he’ll spread sickness to everyone around him. I’ve seen it before.” The old doctor whispered and within moments the look of fear in his eyes was joined by one of almost unfathomable and untold sadness. “When I was a lad… I saw da’ devil. He was tryin’ to come into my father when my ma’ died. I saw an evil tryin’ to get in him that was unlike anythin’ ye’ could ever imagine. Da’ evil comes to feed on da’ ones with sick souls fulla’ pain. He killed himself before he’d let da’ devil win, burnt our house down with him inside…”

Listening to the doctor’s tale was more confusing than anything. Did he mean to stand there and say that the Spaniard was becoming possessed by something? Or even turning into some kind of monster?

_…honestly that didn’t sound as crazy to Jack as it should have…_

“So… what would you have me do with him then?”

“Like I said, let him die down there.” The older man reiterated. “He’s weak enough that he’ll die and da’ sickness and da’ devil will die with him.” Noting the uneasy look on Sparrows face he sighed slightly and put a hand on Jacks shoulder. “He won’ last long; anotha’ month or two at longest… if yer’ feelin’ guilty, give him enough rum to ease the pain of livin’.”

In spite of the pouring rain, the doctor left shortly after sharing those final words with Jack. In fact, the ship he served on left the safety of Tortugas harbor that night, within hours of the old man’s return. No doubt after hearing the story about what their doctor had encountered, the crew had opted to take their chances on the raging sea rather than stay anywhere near the Black Pearl and the prisoner she housed.

And even though Jack Sparrow had taken the suggestion of giving his captive a bottle of rum with every ration… the feeling that had long taken residence in Jacks soul that something was wrong had only gotten worse…

* * *

 

**(Month 7)**

Magda was still lingering in this world, much to his annoyance. Every day he could feel that he was growing physically weaker and frailer. His body was wasting away and the pain in his insides was a constant companion now, as were the hallucinations. The images of shadows, twisting and convulsing, and looking at him with eyes that were somehow darker than the rest of their black bodies. Dear God above he prayed the things he saw were not real but merely induced by his sickness and only foreshadowed his inevitable death.

It had been his father who had taught him about such things. He’d explained how men in fits of fever claimed to see things that were not there. Magda found himself reminiscing about his family more and more now, why he couldn’t quite comprehend. Maybe part of him was happy to think that he would soon see them again. Back when he had been a very young boy his real father and mother had been killed by bandits and he had been left alone to die. But he had been found and taken in by an older couple… the man he called his father was older than he was now when he and his wife had brought him into their home and their hearts. Blood relations had never mattered to them as it would have to most. The love had been real and he had loved them as though they were his real parents; the memories of his true family were very brief and so worn away by time that he could barely remember them.

His adopted parents were simple farmers, a life he would admit to being ill suited for as he had dreamed of the sea for as long as he could remember. But the hard farm life had gifted him a quiet and hardworking nature and his parents had instilled kindness and compassion in his heart. These were the memories he carried with him, memories he’d try desperately to become lost in during the darkest times in his existence… and he called on these memories more and more as the darkness of his prison threatened to suffocate him.

He… he wanted them to fill his mind and help him die in peace. But the memories of his loving family were not exactly the ones that what were constantly at the front of his mind. No, it was the far darker memories of how such kind and loving people had ultimately died which were haunting him now.

Their farm had been right on the edge of a vast forest, and one spring when he was in his mid-teenage years the woods had gone still and quiet… and the stench of death had bled out from beyond the tree line. The animals had somehow contracted a plague and had begun to wither and die in various gruesome ways. But it was a pack of wolves that had become the true incarnations of this disease. He’d seen them lingering at the forests edge, thin and their twisted bodies ravaged by blisters that leaked pus and lacerations caused from God only knew what bled out and stained their matted fur. But it was the beasts faces which haunted him… or their lack thereof. The flesh on the animals’ faces had rotted away revealing the pale skulls with twitching eyes still set amongst the bone. The pain they were in must have driven them insane… as normally the wolves would stay far away from farms unless they were starving or rabid. Now seemingly mad… or possessed… the animals brazenly attacked anything they could kill, yet never ate their prizes. They killed because they wanted to and there was no other reason than that.

The wolves had killed his father, tore him to ribbons when the old man had been approaching his 80th year. He went to reclaim one of their horses which had gotten loose and run to the forests edge. His screams were still echoing through Magdas mind just as vividly as they had all those long years ago. He remembered dropping everything and running to his father’s aid… only getting there too late and for one horrible moment watched as those hell hounds tore his father’s throat out. Everything after that was little more than a blur, he remembered he’d screamed and that drew the beasts attentions and they’d lunged for him… the only clear memories afterwards were the image of a group of dead wolves, the feeling that his body being marred with bites and scratches which would later become scars… and him cradling his father and he watching what little life remained in his eyes slowly drain. His mother had been as devastated as he was, if not moreso. Her health had been fading at this point so it was not so terribly surprising that she passed away within three days of her husband’s death. Dying of a broken heart.

They were buried under an ancient tree on their property and the town priest came and said the funeral rites amidst a small gathering of their family friends. Magda had been so numb at that time, filled with sorrow and grief at their loss. Even though the wolves were dead, the forest never seemed right after that. It was like a fog of malaise had settled over it and never lifted. He tried to continue living the farm life he was accustom to, but it was not where his heart truly desired to be. He had longed for the sea, to be a sailor for the Navy. He’d been ashamed to bring it up to his adopted parents, for fear of seeming ungrateful for the life he lived with them and cherished every moment of… but they had been supportive of his dreams. Although they had never gotten the chance to talk about where the future was leading him before their deaths. Yet he knew they would not have wanted him to stay there if he truly desired a different life. So, he sold the farm to one of his neighbors, someone who was a friend to his family and who Magda knew without the shadow of a doubt would take care of the land and honor his parents’ memory. And with the money he moved to just outside the port of Valencia and followed his dreams to the ocean... a life he lived and never regretted choosing. He sailed in the Navy for years, even serving alongside both Salazar and Lesaro for quite some time. When Salazar became the Capitán of the Mary, Magda and Lesaro were hand chosen to serve as his two closest officers. Lesaro the first and he the second mate; neither he nor Lesaro were as ruthless as Armando Salazar when it came to dealing with pirates, but they had been chosen for their loyalty which the Matador had valued just as much.

He found his thoughts interrupted by an strange sensation within his arm… which in and of itself was odd considering how all the feeling in the limb had long disappeared, leaving him unable to even move his fingers. It didn’t even hurt anymore and he’d avoided looking at it as much as he could, quite honestly afraid of what he might see.

Cautiously he peered down at his arm, noting that the shards of bone still protruding from his coat and how they looked… _different_ … It was as though the bones were _bigger_ somehow. He stared for a moment before he carefully began to roll up his sleeve and glimpsed at his hand and forearm. The flesh was deeply swollen and enflamed, the skin was as red as a fresh apple but it had split open in a multitude of places offering a view of the putrid meat underneath… now that was a truly horrid sight. As his muscle had deteriorated to a sickening rotten dark brown color. What had been a few small cuts on his fingers had gradually rotted away leaving large sections of the bone visible to the naked eye. Magda had expected this, he’d seen more than enough wounds turn septic and eat away the poor souls inflicted with them, but the more he studied the disturbing mess he called his arm the sicker he became... he suddenly stopped as something caught his attention. Right before his elbow, there was a particularly gruesome lesion that had been caused by the tender skin ripping open from the tiny amount of pressure that Magda had applied just by moving the coat, the skin had the texture of oily paper and as he touched it there were several grotesque pops and spurts of yellow and green pus now beginning to ooze out in great awful globs. But that wasn’t the most concerning part… that honor was held by the fact that his flesh was _moving_ … he stared, each second fueling an overwhelming sense of dread until finally something happened…

First there was a small spurt of the most noxious black tar-like blood Magda had ever seen and then… _it came out_ … some sort of worm or slug. It emerged from the rancid flesh of his arm. It was thick and disgusting and was constantly moving once it emerged.

Magda shot straight up, his adrenaline the only thing giving the dying man the strength to do so and he quickly grabbed the squirming abomination and pulled it free of his rancid skin. Something which it took a surprising amount of effort due to how deeply it had anchored itself into his arm, but once he ripped it out he crushed it under his boot. To which emitted a horrific hissing squeal as its insides virtually exploded across the floor of his cell… and to make matters even worse Magda couldn’t even tell if his eyes were deceiving him or if the slugs insides were somehow emitting a light smoke upon contacting the wooden floor. But for Magda this was a breaking point and he could no longer keep the misery he felt bottled up and he screamed and broke down crying and wailing as he realized that the flesh of his arm was still moving…

“Dios arriba, sálvame! Por favor sálvame!”

* * *

 

**(Month 9)**

_…He could control them…_

The slugs, the grotesque and hideous creatures that writhed and squirmed within his ruined arm… he could control them. Magda had discovered this on accident as he had relentlessly focused for what felt like an age on ridding himself of the parasites that he feared had begun to infest the rest of his body as well. He had nearly gone mad from the mental strain of rooting through the rotten flesh and disintegrating bone and marrow to grab the repulsive things and pull them free. The only thing that hindered him was the crippling exhaustion he was becoming far to accustomed to feeling and his legs had given out and he’d collapsed to the filthy floor. Too tired to continue, he could do little more than watch as the slugs emerged from the various open wound on his arm. They burst free from the rotten flesh and writhed in the air, twisting back and forth at varying speeds. The sight sickened him to his very core, it made him want to vomit only his shrunken malnourished body had nothing to wretch. He remembered how he had a single truly focused thought for the first time in what felt like an eternity… wishing the damn things would leave his sight. Only as he thought this, as he focused on it, the slugs movements had begun to slow and they almost cautiously retreated back into his arm.

It didn’t register with him at first, as he had drifted off into a deep sleep almost immediately afterwards… to which he had a terrible nightmare. He dreamt he saw his parents just outside the bars of his cell. His mother was weeping terribly, the same way she had when his father had died… and his father was screaming furiously at him. Although his voice was frightened, desperate even… repeating over and over for him to _‘fight it’_ and _‘don’t let it take you!’_ He woke up screaming. And his fathers’ words lingered in his mind, even if he had no idea what he was talking about… after reassuring himself that it was nothing more than a bad dream he took notice that his captors had apparently been there while he slept. Magda sat upright and stared at what little food, water and rum had been left for him, his lungs burned as though they were filled full of hot coals and his parched throat desperately longed for even a sip of water. Even the rum would do… But alas, this time the pirates had left his rations so far outside of his cell he would never be able to reach them, either for cruelty’s sake or the stench from his rotting body made getting any closer not worth the effort.

Magda sighed, all he needed was a tiny drink to ease the thirst… but the distance between his cell and his food may as well have been miles… until he remembered what had happened with the slugs. At first he scoffed at the idea, believing that he was finally losing his mind. But the thoughts never left him and the more they lingered, the greater his desire to try something became… if only just to prove that he was indeed crazy.

Carefully he pulled the sleeve of his coat up again and looked down at the putrid mess of gradually liquifying tissue somehow still clinging to rotting bones, that was what little remained of his arm at this point and he concentrated on his desire to draw the slugs out…

Just as before the wretched creatures began to emerge from the numerous open and heavily infected wounds. Their coloration the same as the grotesque black and putrid blood that poured from his wounds when they emerged. There was no pain as they wiggled their way out from him and out into what little light illuminated the brig. Deeply disturbed but unwavering in his intent, he willed the slugs to fetch him the food and to bring the water and rum without spilling a single drop… The tendril-like beasts slid out of his wounds upon receiving the silent commands, but upon freeing themselves from his body many of the smallest worms writhed for only a few short moments before shriveling up and apparently dissolving into small globs of the disgusting tar-like substance that did indeed sizzle upon contacting the wooden floor.

_‘They aren’t slugs at all; They’re made of my own blood!’_ Magda realized as he watched the larger of the creatures make their way to the bowl of food, the water, and the rum and how they manipulated their bodies to carefully pick the items up and returned to him, and with extreme care never spilled a single drop of either liquid nor the slop the pirates called food. The tendrils slid up the sleeve of his coat without prompting and burrowed back into the wounds they’d emerged from. Magda however looked at the cup of water, his insides trembling in fear of what he’d come to realize…

_…he had truly hoped that he was just going mad…_

* * *

 

**(One Year)**

Magda was not entirely sure just when it dawned on him, when he realized that he was not going to die. As sick as he was, his body had not given out no matter how much he longed for it to do so. He was so completely disgusted by what he was becoming that he had outright stopped eating and drinking. But when ten days had passed and he found his longing to eat and the burning desire to drink had faded away, he knew that there was something else keeping him alive. And in his heart, he knew it was not anything good… which is exactly what had brought him to commit a mortal sin…

Magdas teeth bit into his wrist. He bit down as hard as he could and just started to rip into himself until he tasted blood upon his tongue, to which he just tore in with an even greater ferocity. He opened his veins and ignored the pain it caused. It was becoming far to easy to ignore pain as it seemed that it was all he ever felt now. As the crimson liquid began to coat his face and spill down the front of his tattered clothing he started to feel the faintest glimmer of hope that this would finally end his nightmare… surly God would have mercy on his soul for just no longer wanting to exist like this? But his hopes were dashed when a foul taste suddenly distracted him from his task and he spat out a mouthful of his own flesh and blood. Much to his horror he found that his red blood had begun to turn a rotten black… and what was worse, where he had begun to chew into his arm one of the slugs had already begun to peek out of the wound, and just underneath the skin he could already see his flesh moving with countless more of them.

It was to much, to much for the sick man to handle and just broke down crying. “I am pestilence incarnate…” He whispered quietly amidst tears that he found he was unable to stop. His voice so raw from disuse that he no longer sounded like himself but rather the shriveled and defeated husk of that he had become. Magda became so wrapped up in his ever-growing misery that he failed to notice that a trio of pirates had entered his dark, festering domain.

“Aww, would ye’ look at this boys? The Spaniard is cryin!” The unofficial ringleader of this trio sneered down at their captives’ obvious misery. Unlike Murtogg and Mullroy these twats had been problems for him since the beginning of his incarceration. The realization that he was being gawked at drew him out of his sorrow just enough so that he could glare hatefully up at the unkept lot. The whites of his tired eyes now stained red and his face was so thin and gaunt now he looked more like a waterlogged corpse… and quite frankly he stank like one too. He had been mocked before by this lot, but this time there was something different about their prisoner and the least bold of the three hung back, not wanting to approach more than he had too. A sentiment that was obviously not shared by the other two.

“Prolly’ cryin’ for his mum!” The second pirate added and the loud uproarious laughter only increased as the Spaniard glared out at the utter buffoons. But Magda suddenly felt something… something that was as not native to his person... **hatred…** compete and absolute hatred. Hatred directed at these pirates, hatred directed at his situation and hatred directed at himself for not dying with his crew when he should have! Had he not rushed to that anchor, had he never tried to survive the walls of water he’d be dead and at peace with his crew as he should be. The voices and shadows that had haunted him up until this point were screaming so loudly in his ears that he could no longer hear the pirates and their cruel taunts.

“Oh by God, he stinks!” The ringleader chimed in once again as he flipped the plate of food he’d been carrying over, letting it spill onto the floor and his snickering friend muttered an insincere _‘oops’_ as he unceremoniously dropping the cup of water as well. Laughing gleefully as he did so. But the laughter gradually died down as he got really close to the bars and sneered down at Magda. “I dunno why the captain wastes good rum on ‘im.” The man grunted looking at the bottle of rum he carried in his hand before a wicked smile crossed his face and he loudly slurped it down… then hesitated for a moment before spitting it all back up again into the cup along some of the other contents of his stomach. His disgusting act fueling an ever growing deranged smile, the man got right up against the bars and held out the cup of putrid filth to the sick man. “Want a drink?”

This was the last straw, the final insult. Something inside of Magda snapped at that moment and in a flash his pain and weakness were gone, replaced by a violent strength and a burning rage. Seeing nothing but red Magda sprang up so fast it took the pirates several long seconds to realize exactly what was happening, but by then he’d grabbed the pirates arm and suddenly they were face to face. His tormenter unable to pull back. Magdas breath was hot and wet and smelled of long rotten meat and blood. His eyes blazed with an unbridled fury which struck terror deep within the heart of the man now trapped within his grip. The sluglike tendrils exploded out of his rotten arm and tore through his coat as that diseased limb moved… it reached up and ripped the bottle from the mans hand, all while the bones in his fingers pierced through what little flesh remained on them.

Magda cast a half-interested glance at the bottle before looking at the man in his grip. **“Drink it yourself!!!”** The tendrils moved out of his arm and raced onto the pirates’ face, mere contact with them immediately causing the skin to blister and burn as though touched with a white-hot iron and the worms forced his mouth open, far to wide, easily breaking and dislocating his jaw at the same time. The raging Spaniard then shoved the entire bottle into his broken mouth. And he kept forcing it in, deeper down until it actually caused a portion of the mans neck to split open and ooze blood and rum as the offending object was to big and as the glass was actually breaking apart inside his gullet. Not content with the barely audible gurgles of agony he willed the tendrils out of his body and along with the broken bottle forced a mass of them down the man’s throat and deep down into his gut. Where without a doubt the worms were continuing to have the same effect on his insides as they were on his skin. What eventually snapped him out of his rage were the screams of absolute horror coming from the other two men down in the brig with them.

He blinked as his mind suddenly became his own again and he dropped his tormentor, the man twitching and writhing on the ground much in the fashion the slugs did whenever they were partially exposed. It was a horrible sight. Made much worse when he watched the worms burst from the still living mans body in an explosion of gore and blood and how they didn’t even return to him… they just began burrowing through the now dead man and Magda watched as their movements made the others flesh burn and putrefy almost immediately.

The sight of this, along with the accumulation of everything else he had endured over the course of this long hellish year made Magda screamed at the top of his lungs! Although the sound he made did not sound human, not in any imaginable way. It sounded more like a monster roaring than any humans wail.

Finally, his throat feeling as though it was being shredded he could scream no longer. “What have I done?” He whispered as rotten black blood from his raw throat made its way up and began to ooze out of the corners of his mouth. He wanted this to be over, this nightmare of an existence! He wanted to die but that luxury he knew was not going to ever come… fine… _FINE!_   If he couldn’t die then he prayed to whatever God or devil was out there to let him fall asleep and _NEVER_ wake up again!

He could feel it, almost on cue… exhaustion creeping upon him. His only escape, his only reprieve. Sleep was coming, a deep long sleep. Magda was so exhausted that he didn’t even take notice of his own barely visible shadow seeming to atrophy and mesh not only with the darkness around him, but with a select few of the sluglike tendrils that once again protruded from his body once more… This darkness seemed to become physical, and yet whatever form it took was nearly impossible to discern into a specific silhouette.  Instead it looked like nothing more than an amalgamation of shadows and tentacles. It moved as quickly as a gunshot, getting right up next to the weak mans ear. But if he could see it at all, Magda was certainly paying it no mind.

**“Jusssst a nightmare… jussssst a pessidla. When you sleep it will be over.”** It whispered in a voice that would have sent the devil running as it bastardized the first words Magda had said upon being thrown into the Black Pearls brig so long ago. But whatever the shadow creature meant was lost on Magda. He was too tired to fight it anymore… and his mind wandered onto the memory of his best friend Antonio Moss’s smiling face and his laughter. The kind friend he missed terribly… and who he had never told something so very important… well… there was no point in saying it now was there? The brief flicker of that memory brought the ghost of a smile to Magda’s face moments before he fell into a deep slumber.

_His sleep was filled with vivid dreams from a better time…_

_In fact, he became so consumed by the happy memories that he forgot the world he was in was not reality…_

_Perhaps this was a blessing…_

_Or perhaps the reality was far worse than anyone could have ever imagined…_

Within minutes of the gruesome murder no less than a dozen pirates had stormed into the brig, their faces filled with anger and hate no doubt stemming from the news that one of their own had just been killed. But upon reaching the prisoners cell, their expressions rapidly changed from rage to confusion and even a little fear as the Spaniards body was standing completely upright rather than laying in a crumpled huddle on the ground as many of them had been more accustomed to seeing. However, in spite of standing, his head was limp and slumped on his shoulder while his mess of filthy, tangled, unkempt hair now framed his face. The man’s skin was paler than ever before and there was no movement behind his eyelids nor was there any faint movement of his chest indicative of shallow breathing… and the stench of decay hung in the air like a guillotine waiting to fall at any moment. The pirates just stood there, now no longer entirely sure just what it was they were looking at when very, very slowly the mans head rose and his eyes snapped open. But they were no longer human eyes, as they were now the color of blood and fire with his pupils having taken on a hideous cross shape and the whites of his eyes had turned pitch black from rotted blood rupturing behind them…

As the air turned frigid as this _creature_ smiled an unnaturally wide smile and with a mouth full of now very sharp teeth…  

_And that was when the screaming began…_

* * *

 

The day had started off bad for Jack, just as so many others had. Over the last few weeks he’d been haunted by bad dreams almost every single night. What made it much more unnerving was that it was the same nightmare over and over again and each time the images would become more vivid and the lines between what was a dream and what was reality would continue to blur until he wasn’t sure if he actually was dreaming or if the world had somehow shifted to mimic the nightmare.

It would always begin with him standing on the deck of his beloved Pearl and being vaguely aware that he was in a cave of sorts. Although it is not dark, rather it’s as though the entire world was bathed in a red light and the air felt hot and humid. But not in a way he was used to, it felt unnatural somehow… _it just felt wrong_ … And the only sound to be heard was a constant rhythmic thumping which he could not only hear but feel as well. He could feel it pulsing through the deck of his ship and even the soles of his boots. He would venture down the stairs, never seeing any members of his crew. Of which he’d had a sickening suspicion that whatever world this nightmare conjured for him had already dealt his men horrific fates. The deeper in he went the more his stomach churned as the moist heat grew harder to breathe. Finally, upon reaching the brig he would be hit by a wave of pure nausea as the sight before him filed him with more terror than any ghoul ever could.

His entire brig, from floor to ceiling was drenched in blood, rancid coagulated blood that reeked of death and decay. There were mounds of rotten flesh covered in bloated maggots floating in the sea of crimson like disgusting little islands. There seemed to be an uncountable number of skulls floating in the blood as well, many of which still had the lidless eyes rolling in the sockets as though some unnatural darkness was somehow keeping the souls anchored to them. But the worst part, the most horrible sight of all was contained within the same cell that Salazar’s Officer inhabited… only now there was no man in that cell. There was instead a massive and twisted figure, its body rotten and somehow seeming to be formed of a multitude of writhing worms and corpses all woven together in some hideous tapestry of pain and terror. Its long lanky arms were far to long for any human and the hands were nothing but skeletal claws with nails nearly six inches long at least… but the head was the one feature which stood out immediately as it was not human at all. Instead it appeared to be some sort of canine skull, but it was too large to have been any natural breed and the jaws contained far more teeth than it should have.

Jack would stare at this monstrosity, unable to look away before finally the beast would throw itself against the bars just as even more hideous slimy worms or maggots erupted from all over its torso and the skull would open its massive maw only to reveal a sickening glowing red chasm of hellfire and the echoing screams of untold suffering that made this monster everything it was and how its existence was born of had gestating like a tumor with the belly of his beloved Black Pearl.

It was at that point where Jack would finally wake up… sometimes unable to contain his screams.

The result of having to deal with these terrifying visions every night led the usually laid-back Captain Jack Sparrow to be agitated and even skittish at times. Of course, this could have also been due to being stuck land-bound in Tortuga for far longer than he had originally intended, Jack was never one to stay on land for to long and these last few months had really grated on him. He may have adored the pirate paradise but there came a point where all he wanted was to return to the sea. But even though luck favored Jack Sparrow he wasn’t about to venture out into the sea in the midst of winds strong enough to shame a hurricane! It may not have been the same everywhere else upon the Caribbean Sea, but the area for miles upon miles around Tortuga was trapped in a constant storm. Yet there was a glimmer of hope at this point, for these last few days the weather had let up. Naturally there had been some days where the sun had managed to break through the clouds, but there was always a looming darkness over the ocean. Perhaps it was Calypso daring brave men to venture out and see if she was feeling merciful… which chances were very good that she wasn’t. And with Jacks current potentially supernatural problem still breathing in the brig of his ship, he just didn’t want to give the sea goddess any extra incentive to try and send him back to the Locker. But now the dark clouds had dissipated from Jacks beloved horizon and he and countless others were holding out hope that they could finally return to sailing upon the beautiful vast ocean. Surly that should set the scruffy pirates mind at ease.

Or at least that was what Jack kept telling himself even if he knew it was not entirely true. Still he was determined not to think about the alternative, especially not now. Not when he was sitting in the heart of the _‘Twelve Daggers’_ his favorite tavern on Tortuga. Naturally he’d spent a great deal of time in this decrepit old building over the last few months but the place never lost its charm, no matter how often he frequented it. Besides he’d been accompanied by a handful of his crew who were making quite the heartfelt attempt to cheer him up, an effort orchestrated by Gibbs no doubt. Although the groups efforts were not in vain, Jack actually was starting to feel better. The drink and merriment forcing his mind away from the troubling thoughts and dreams that haunted him.

It was just as the band had started to play a new song and a fresh wave of fights had begun did the door to the tavern slam open as a bloody and mutilated figure staggered in screaming their head off… or at least what was left of their head, since most of their lower jaw appeared to have been ripped off. Much like the entirety of their right arm. The bloodied man took only two more shaky steps forward before collapsing on the floor in front of everyone. Immediately all the revelry stopped and a frigid chill ripped through the air like a dull knife trying to amputate a limb. Jack stared at the dead man whose blood immediately began to seep out onto the floor due to the seemingly uncountable number of slashes and strange festering burns that marred his body. He had stopped mid drink when the half dead man had barged into the room and found himself unable to move from that very pose, even when Gibbs was among the first individuals to move closer to get a better look. Only after a moment he recoiled back and looked at Jack, his eyes wide with fright.

“Jack, that’s one of our men!” Gibbs exclaimed and no sooner did the words leave his mouth did the bottle of rum fall from Jacks hand and shatter upon the ground. Sparrow didn’t hesitate, he ran out of the tavern as fast as he could. But not in the usual manner such as when he ran away from the Pelegostos, or a much more common sight of when he was inevitably chased away by an angry mob of prostitutes here on the very island of Tortuga. No, this time Jack _ran_. He ran faster than he ever had before and the exact reason why was unknown even to Jack himself…

_Or maybe he just didn’t want to admit that he had been halfway expecting something like this to happen…_

He made it to the Black Pearl in record time, all the while a feeling of growing dread began to bloom within his chest as the moonlight reflected off the gangplank which even at a distance one could see was thoroughly soaked in crimson. He paused at the base of blood-soaked walkway, not even noticing that Scrum, Gibbs and Cremble had caught up to him and the other members of the crew who’d been in the tavern earlier with their Captain were not far behind. Yet after a moment of hesitation Jack Sparrow cautiously walked up the slick gangplank… and upon stepping onto the deck, it was like stepping straight into hell.

The entirety of the Pearls deck was slathered in blood and carnage. The remnants of at least ten of his men were strewn all around the deck, all literally in pieces. The bodies were torn to absolute shreds, and strangely enough all looked as though they had been decomposing for weeks with the meat rotting right off the bones. And the sheer volume of blood that painted the entirety of the deck and even a large part of the main mast was almost surreal… but the one thing that could be seen as clear as day and actually made everything even more macabre, was that there were not enough body parts to make one complete body…

While ignoring the question of where the rest of the body parts were... Each passing second only worked to drill a single clear thought into Jacks rapidly sobering mind… he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be in the real-world version of his nightmare, surrounded by so much blood. He also didn’t want to think how much of this was all his fault…

“Scrum!” He snapped, not even turning to look at the pirate as the poor man had started dry heaving from the aroma of blood and filth that went hand in hand with the gruesome images that surrounded them. “Go below deck and check on the Spaniard… Now!” The ever-unfortunate pirate made a distinct whimpering sound as he very slowly descended down the stairs and then disappeared from view. Jack didn’t wait for him to come back up… nor did he need to hear Scrum racing up the stairs from the brig screaming how the Spaniard was gone to know that his prisoner was somehow responsible for all this. No, his eyes were currently transfixed on the door to his cabin which was caked in blood and gore… and cracked slightly open, to which Jack was completely sure he had closed it tightly behind him when he’d left. With the utmost caution, he opened the door to his cabin and at first believed that the horrors just outside the door had not spread inside.

At least that was what he thought until he noticed the bloody bone spike impaled into his desk, yet everything else in his cabin was untouched. This was not something that could be classified as a random act of murderous rage, no this was calculated. The spike was impaled through a map Jack had been reviewing prior to heading off to the tavern… the massive shard of pointed bone was stabbed into the island of Cuba, more specifically the port of Havana.

What was now painfully clear was that the bastard was telling him exactly where he was going… he wanted Jack to follow him or stay as far away from his destination as possible.

_Judging by the slaughter on board his ship, it was a no brainer which option Jack chose..._

_…At least for now…_

_Although with the Spaniard no longer contained on his ship, Jack was nothing short of relieved to find he could at least find sleep once more…_

_Unfortunately, it was a sleep laden with guilt riddled dreams and when he was awake Jack was unable to escape the feeling that he had not seen the last of that abomination._

**_Something FAR more wicked than Salazar was now loose upon the sea…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Aaaand I hope Jack was not to OOC as I am a bit afraid that’s how he came off. He was supposed to be caught between a rock and a hard place. He’d lost his ship to mutiny before and he had his crew abandon him when he had hit rock bottom. So, he didn’t want to seem to weak or forgiving and just let Magda go. So, he did what he thought he had to in order to save face with his crew but then everything changed with the old doctors warning and he betrayed himself and opted to let a sick man die… Essentially Jack knows he fucked up big time here and it will only cause him more trouble down the road.  
> I am hoping the next chapter will be up in a far more reasonable amount of time. Hopefully within 2 to 3 weeks at max. And yes we’ll be returning to focus on Salazar and his recovery.
> 
> As always please remember to read and review! ^_^
> 
> Spanish Translations:
> 
> “Diablo pájaro… has venido matarme?” - “Devil Bird, have you come to kill me?
> 
> “Dios arriba, sálvame! Por favor sálvame!” – “God above save me! Please save me!”


	4. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow… and I thought that it could not have possibly taken longer for me to update this story than it did last time. Yet here we are again, with me posting again after such a long hiatus…
> 
> However, this delay has a very valid reason for occurring, while I was writing this chapter there were several personal emergencies that arose. While not getting into specifics, I will say that my mom became extremely ill and ended up in the hospital. She is fine now, but obviously writing this chapter was not my priority.
> 
> That being said I do hope that the future chapters will be posted far quicker... and again I do apologize for the delay and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! ^_^

**Chapter 4**

**Awakening**

 

_The first thing Salazar saw when life finally returned to his battered body was the crescent moon shining through an open window…_

At first, his mind drew a complete blank on where he was. But within a few moments, a lifetimes worth of memories smacked into him with such force it nearly knocked the air out of his lungs. In his hazy mind, when he registered that he was in a warm comfortable bed… it gave Armando Salazar one glorious moment to believe that all of the terrible, agonizing experiences he had endured had been nothing more than a bad dream. The thought brought such an overwhelming sense of relief that he almost laughed from the sheer joy it filled him with. But alas, no sooner had he tried to move and felt the all to familiar sensation of his eel tail shifting where his legs had once been did that moment of illusion crumble back into the nightmare of reality. His entire body felt weak as his emotional state came crashing down; a low strangled sob had barely escaped his from his lips when…

"Are you awake?" A soft yet clearly concerned voice reached his ears and he felt his decaying spirit suddenly harden. If only because he absolutely refused to allow anyone to ever see him in such a vulnerable state. He managed to push himself upright, his eyes fully open and alert even in spite of the crippling exhaustion he still felt. But the sight that greeted him was so shocking that his shaking arms gave out and he fell back onto the soft bed.

A woman stood in the doorway of the room staring straight at him with large unblinking blue eyes. She was of fair height and her choice of clothing was… different, as she did not wear any sort of dress but rather a loose-fitting white shirt and a pair of black breeches. Something Salazar was admittedly not used to seeing women wear. Not that there was anything wrong with it, it was more surprising when coupled with the fact that her long hair was just as white as winters first snowfall and her skin so pale she that resembled a bloodless corpse rather than a living person… Salazar found her appearance to be unnerving at best.

The two stared at each other, neither one moving nor blinking for several long minutes. Finally reclaiming her senses, Rhea briefly shook her head before cautiously approaching her now conscious guest. Just as the Spaniard took notice of the bowl in her hands and the scent of herbs that went with it. "How are you feeling?"

"Quién eres y dónde me has traído?!" He demanded, his voice low and cracking after extended lengths of disuse. As the only times Salazar had spoken out loud to himself this past year was when the silence… and his own loneliness… had grown beyond unbearable.

The deathly pale woman paused for a moment, inwardly reviewing his words. "Do you speak English by chance?" She inquired. "I am sorry, I know Spanish, but it has been an age since I've spoken it."

"Who are you?" He stated in English as he took a second to let his eyes cautiously scan the room he was in. Half expecting to be confined to a cage like an animal… and growing suspicious when he found this to not be the case. Even moreso when he finally noticed all of the bandages covering his chest and the parts of his body not buried beneath the mountain of blankets. "And where am I?"

"My name is Rhea, Rhea Nightwing." The albino said calmly. "As for where you are, you're in my home on the Isle of Haven. You crawled into one of the caves by the beach where a pair of children happened upon you…" She trailed off before slowly moving close enough to sit in the chair directly next to the bed. Her actions were cautious, as she noted that he was looking at her much like a feral animal would. Not that this was surprising, if one was to simply look at state of his body it was easy to deduce that he had endured immense and seemingly continuous pain. Rhea feared, and rightly so, that should he feel threatened he may very well lash out at her and probably end up hurting himself more than her. Still… she was at least relieved to see he was finally awake.

"How long have… have I been here?" Salazar muttered as he once again worked on pushing himself into a more upright sitting position. Something that was far harder than it should have been given the state of his muscles, but he didn't stop until he had righted himself to the point that he could look the strange woman in the eye.

"Eight days." She answered. "You had a fever, certainly one of the worst I've seen. It only broke last night." She paused for a moment before offering him the bowl of what Salazar now gathered to be some sort of herbal soup. "Here, you must be hungry."

He wanted to resist. His mind wanted to ignore the woman's offering and demand more answers to the questions screaming within his mind. But his body seemed to act on its own, reaching out and grabbing the bowl with weak and shaking hands. He was so  _hungry_ … so sickeningly, ravenously  _hungry_. It honestly awed him that he even had the sense enough to use the ladle the woman gave him when it looked as though he was about to just put the bowl to his lips and slurp it down... yet as soon as he tasted the warm rich broth, he noted that the soup did indeed consist primarily of herbs and spices, but there were a few bits of meat. From what Salazar assumed it may have been either chicken or pheasant. Not that it mattered one way or another… to the starving man it may have been the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Yet no sooner had he eaten a few admittedly messy spoonful's did a sudden, searing pain erupt from his abdomen. It felt as though a thousand knives were ripping through his insides, cutting into his stomach and intestines. A half-garbled cry of agony escaped his mouth just as he dropped the bowl to the floor and curled in on himself as his internals spasmed. Salazar wanted to scream… he wanted to scream and rage and just rip his entire monstrous body to shreds and just be done with this whole wretched existence. He grit his teeth and writhed in anguish, both mentally and physically for what felt more like an eternity before he became aware of a hand gently rubbing his back in slow circles.

"Easy…" Rheas voice whispered lowly. "You're alright. You're alright. You just ate too fast… it's alright." She kept repeating over and over.

Slowly, the stabbing pain began to ease. Though it left Salazar's insides feeling raw and torn, almost as though he had just been disemboweled with rusted swords. But none of that mattered as he listened to the woman's words, and after a moment he did manage to look up at her… but his eyes were cold and quickly growing angrier with every passing second. "Do not… mock me." He warned, his voice coming off as little more than a growl. This immediately made Rhea stop her motions and remove her hands from his back. Honestly, she was more than a little taken aback at what he just said. As it was worlds away from her intentions.

"I am not mocking you." She stated, her eyes that had initially widened with the surprise of his sudden anger were now narrowing slightly in offense. Her guest seemed less than convinced… but his strength, what little he had left, had all but faded away. His arms shook violently as he attempted to force himself to sit up again, but was unable to do so. Yet he continued to try, even though with each passing second it became more obvious that his will alone was not enough.

Finally, when his frustration became to hard to watch Rhea put a hand on his chest and as gently as she could manage, pushed him back down onto the bed. The look of resentment boiled behind his eyes as he glared at this woman… only now she glared right back at him.

"What do you want from me?" He demanded. His voice was shaky, but the anger so visible in his eyes was far more noticeably present in his tone.

"I want nothing from you." Rhea responded, admittedly gritting her own teeth a bit to prevent herself from raising her voice. On the inside however, she found her own temper beginning to roil like a storm evolving into a hurricane. As this would not have been the first time that an attempt at compassion had promptly blown up in her face, like a barrel of gunpowder near an open flame. Still, she bit her tongue and fought back the rising floodwaters of bitterness rapidly rising into her chest and reminded herself that her guest was clearly in a bad way… now was not the time to take anything he said to heart. "I only want to help-"

"Tu mientes! No one would ever help me… unless they wanted something!" He tried to sit up again, but Rhea didn't let him, keeping her hand squarely on his chest and firmly pressing him down… and to his frustration he knew he couldn't do anything about it.

"Is it so unheard of for help to be offered freely?" Rhea asked in a tone that came out far more venomous than she intended… and for one moment, Salazar would swear that her vibrant blue eyes flashed with a dangerous red light. But given his fatigue, he was admittedly not sure if his own eyes had just played a trick on him… However, the words made all the burning rage within him suddenly turn cold. Like a fire that had just had a bucket of icy water dumped on it, extinguishing the blaze.

"Yes." He said in a far calmer, far softer voice. It was as though his rational mind finally caught up to his behavior. "I have found that help rarely comes without some sort of price." A silence fell between them and lasted for several minutes, which if nothing else allowed Salazar to further review his own words and actions. Any fool could see as clear as day that he had been rude at best… what brief interactions he'd had with this woman had given him no indications that she harbored any malevolent intent towards him. Looking back on this whole exchange… only served to remind him of the numerous warnings Lesaro had given him about letting his rage guide his actions… and how most people in the world did not share his bleak outlook on the world. His old friends' words biting into him and only further made him feel ashamed for his ill directed anger. "I… I'm sorry." He finally said in a very low, hushed tone. His rather abrupt demeanor change made Rhea regard him with some confusion as he continued. "It has been… a very long time since anyone has been kind to me. Though, this does not excuse my actions… Lo siento… it was uncalled for…"

"It's fine… I will not take offense to anything you said." Rhea muttered, inwardly sighing as she found her own agitation rapidly draining out from her frame and admittedly feeling more than a bit foolish for letting her own temper start to rise. "But whether you believe me or not, I really do not want anything from you."

"Then why?" He asked, suspicion still clearly noticeable in his voice. "Why? Por que ayudarme? Surely you can see what I am…" His voice cracked a little at this as his gaze fell upon the long coils of his eel tail that were partially visible amidst all the blankets. He lifted up one of his hands and looked at it, noting how the thick curved nails made it resemble a claw more than a hand at this point. The sight disgusted him to his very core. "I am a monster." The whispered words were barely audible, but Rhea heard them and immediately a look of complete confusion wrote itself upon her colorless features.

"You are no monster. I have met plenty of mers in my time. Granted I have never seen one quite like you before…" She trailed off as he stared at her. The look, a mix of surprise, confusion and the faintest hint of fear, was telling enough. Clearly it had not been a response he had been expecting, and it inadvertently told an important story without the need for a single word to be spoken aloud. "You… are not a mer, are you?

"No…"

"Then what are you?" No sooner did the words leave her mouth did her guest look as though she had just punched him. The sight of how immediate the question clearly hurt him actually made Rhea feel a bit guilty for having asked it so bluntly.

"I am a man… a cursed man. Damned even." He whispered. "I was cursed with this form upon my death. And I have been wandering alone through the seas ever since."

"You died?" She inquired slightly raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? Perhaps you merely came close to dying?"

"I fell from a great height and my face was smashed into an anchor… then I drowned. I am  **positive**  I died. One could even say that I am very familiar with the feeling…" Salazar replied with a low, dark chuckle before slowly casting his eyes out the window, and up at the moon once again. Exhaustion creeping through his veins, promising to drag him back into a hopefully dreamless sleep. And he was about ready to just give in and return to unconsciousness when his host spoke again.

"If what your saying is true, then whatever cursed you would need to be immensely powerful." Rheas voice drew him back from the edge and he wearily turned to look at her. "And if it is truly a curse… well, then there is  **always**  a way to break it..." Admittedly her words had been more of an observation that she had been making to herself rather than an intentional conversation… she had not even been aware that he was listening.

"You speak as though you know a great deal about such things." Salazar observed, almost finding it a bit amusing when his words made her jump slightly with the surprise that he hadn't drifted off to sleep and was still paying attention. "Are you a bruja? A witch?"

Rhea remained completely silent as she extended her hand towards him and Salazar watched as a small ball of blue fire suddenly appeared in her palm. The flames danced in her hand for only a brief moment before disappearing as quickly as they had manifested. "Aye, one could say that I have  **vast**  knowledge in regards to magic. Perhaps, if you are truly cursed… I may be able to find some way to help you."

"There is no way to help me senorita." Salazar mumbled. "No one can." It was a true shame that by now, the once proud man had long given up hoping for this nightmare to end. Even if this strange eerie woman knew how to break this new torturous curse… he dreaded what new curse would immediately arise to take its place. That was something he had thought long and hard about, particularly on nights that he had been so desperate to find rest… the nights he would try to imagine being free from this monstrous body. But such fantasies would always end in the voices deep within his mind whispering how it would never be over, that he could never be free. If the destruction of the Trident had truly been able to free him, why was he like this now? Why did a new curse take hold so quickly? The only answer he could come up with was that some being… be it a god or a devil… had no intentions of letting him, or his crew for that matter, be rid of their damnation. Such thoughts had caused what little hope he'd had to slowly wither and die over the course of this past year.

"Do not be so sure of that." Rhea replied calmly. Calling him away from his dark thoughts. "However, I do think it best we have this discussion when you are in a better state. But I do have just one question for you… What is your name?"

Well if Salazar didn't feel foolish enough from his earlier behavior, the realization he had not even bothered to give her his name made him feel even worse. The only silver lining to the situation was that the weariness he felt mercifully dampened his feeling of embarrassment. "Salazar." He muttered. "My name is Armando Salazar."

Hearing his name made Rhea go still for a moment, as a look of what could only be described as a mix of confusion and disbelief wrote itself upon her face. But whatever thoughts had intruded into her mind were immediately dismissed. "Well then, Salazar… It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Si… you as well Miss Nightwing." He had barely finished speaking his words before he closed his eyes and was finally reclaimed by sleep.

For a few long minutes Rhea didn't move as she quietly regarded the now unconscious creature. Before she quietly walked out of the room and gathered up a few rags, then returning and started gathering up the broken pieces from the bowl as well as cleaning the mess now on her floor. All the while her mind quietly trying to process this new bit of information… because it just did not make any sense. She knew that name, but she also knew that the man to whom that name belonged to was  _long_  dead. As though the times they lived in were not strange enough, now she had inadvertently invited this mystery into her home. That would certainly be her luck wouldn't it? While she was very good at dealing with people as her…  _position_ … in the town was heavily dependent on this talent, but she would not hesitate to admit that she would prefer to keep to herself more often than not. And there were very few exceptions to this rule…

A loud knock on her front door finally broke her train of thought and with somewhat convenient timing as she had just finished with cleaning the floor. But not wanting whoever this was to accidentally wake her sleeping guest, Rhea hopped up and quietly ran to the door and threw it opened so abruptly that the would-be visitor was right in the middle of his second round of knocking.

"Oh, it's just you Leland." She said with a sigh and admittedly had to stifle a chuckle at the look of shock that had written itself on the Englishman's face at her sudden appearance in the doorway. Though he quickly regained himself.

"Sorry to pester you so late, I hope I am not intruding." He said sheepishly as Rhea motioned for him to step inside. Which he did, but as he stepped into the middle of the room, filled with the eerie light from the blue flamed candles it was clear to see that Cobalt had not been mistaken, it certainly looked like Leland had been in a very unpleasant fight recently. His left arm was in a sling and heavily bandaged, his normally immaculate uniform was partially unbuttoned allowing for a faint glimpse to a great deal of bandages packed tightly around the right side of his chest and there was a much more noticeable burn that seemed to spread from behind those wrappings all the way up the right side of his neck and a portion of his cheek. Overall, he looked like he had just gone through hell and came back scorched from its unholy fires.

"I keep odd hours Leland," Rhea muttered as her eyes wandered over his wounds. "I am up, sometimes for days and nights at a time… and when I sleep, I sleep like  _stone_." The choice of words made him chuckle slightly, as though there was some sort of private joke between them. But Leland's expression soon grew quite serious and with a bit of difficulty he pulled something out of the sling his damaged arm was in.

"Runa gave me these the other day, I'm ashamed to say I only got around to looking at them short time ago." The items in Leland's hand were in fact medals that Rhea had salvaged from the destroyed remains of Salazar's coat. "I was… a bit surprised to see them. She said that they came from your… houseguest?" He searched for the right word, as clearly Runa had only given Leland the barest of explanations as to what had transpired.

"Aye, they were on a coat he was wearing." She confirmed. "Leland, what can you tell me about those medals?"

"Not as much as I'm sure you'd like. They're not British; they are-"

"Spanish." Rhea finished his sentence for him. Though the look of confusion he gave forced her to elaborate further. "My guest woke up a short time ago and he was speaking Spanish at first." Now this is where Rheas expression grew every bit as serious as Leland's. "Can you tell me  _anything_  about those medals? Anything at all?"

"Well…" He began slowly. "I don't know about these first two, but this one," he said as he held out the medals to Rhea and gestured to one in particular one with his thumb. One that appeared to have been in the shape of a cross with very jagged points, and at one time had an image embossed in the small oval in its center. But whatever image had been there was no longer discernible. "If I had to guess, and this is only a guess… I'd have to say that this would be an  _'Order of Charles III, Grand Cross.'_  It's… its not the kind of thing that is just given out. This a very high honor."

"Well, that is... troubling." Rhea muttered as she cast a now somewhat nervous looking glance towards her back room. "Given what he says his name is, I'm starting to wonder just what magics are at work here."

"What is his name?" Leland inquired, his own interests now piqued.

"Tell me, what does the name Armando Salazar mean to you?" Obviously meant something because the blood drained right out of Leland's face. His eyes widening in disbelief.

"Salazar?" He repeated almost not believing his own words. "The pirate hunter? The man is a legend; it does not matter what country you're from, chances are if you sail the seas you have heard that name. Are you saying that you have the legendary Spanish capitán back there?"

Rhea snorted. "What I'm saying is I don't quite know what's going on yet. I know the stories better than most… and I know that Armando Salazar and his crew were said to have died well over 30 years ago. And our friend here claims to have died, but was resurrected and cursed with the form he is trapped in now. A cross between a mer and an eel."

The Englishman's eyes suddenly lit up as a thought occurred to him. "Could he have a mark? You know, one of those powers you told me about? Damn, I can't remember what they were called." He grumbled. "You explained it well enough, even demonstrated with your own… yet in spite of that I just cannot seem to get a good understanding of all of the different types."

"You're doing well Leland, especially for a man who never believed in magic at all until a few short years ago… and we call them Anima Marks, or often times just marks. And I already thought of that. While its possible, I don't believe that is the case. Unless his didn't form properly… I just don't know." The albino sighed, a solemn tone starting to become evident in her voice. "But if he is who he claims to be, there will be problems. As Haven is… quite far from a traditional port town."

"Indeed." Leland muttered before a small smile eventually crept onto his face. "But to be honest, that is one of the reasons why I have grown to love this place so much. And that makes me quite concerned about this situation… if… if he proves to be a problem how do you suggest we handle it?"

Rhea closed her large blue eyes and seemed to become lost in her thoughts for a moment. "He is staying with me, I suppose that will make him my responsibility." She stated matter-o-factly, though the way she spoke it was hard to tell if she was actually addressing Leland or strictly talking to herself. "He is physically weak, overpowering him will not be a problem. I could get a good grip on his head and snap his neck... quick and clean. Or slit his throat… also stab one time in each set of gills for good measure. That is how I will deal with him should he become a problem." She reopened her eyes upon finishing this rather grim statement, only to be greeted with the image of her British guest looking both horrified and sickened at what she had just said.

"It disturbs me to no end how quickly you responded to that… I thought we would just restrain him and then let him loose far away from these shores."

"Aye, but should we not have the luxury of such… benevolent means. I will do what needs to be done. But do not be so quick to judge me Leland, I did offer to help him. It was not something I was forced to do… know that I would only kill him if I absolutely had too." The albino explained and her words seemed to quell the unease she had unintentionally caused her companion.

"Just… just exercise caution Rhea. If it truly is El Matador Del Mar; him finding out about your  _'other'_  occupation will not be a pretty sight." Her friend warned.

"I will ease him into it." Rhea replied with a voice virtually dripping with sarcasm. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Just one last thing." The Naval Officer muttered as he started to get the feeling Rhea was looking for him to leave. He didn't take any offence to her tone, as he knew that Rhea could be very patient… but he doubted she had gotten much rest over the past eight days. Or eaten much for that matter. As it was a bit of an open secret amongst their little group that when Rhea became absorbed in a task… she could very well forget to pay her own needs much mind. "It looks like I won't be meeting up with the main fleet for some time. Most of my men were badly hurt in the ambush, and the repairs to  _Heavens Tempest_  won't be done any time soon. So… I wanted to let you know that if you wanted to set sail in the coming weeks, I would be here to watch over things."

"As at least one crystal-bearer must be on the island or in its waters at all times." She said as look of interest flared to life behind her eyes much like the blue flames she had mastery over. "It feels like an age has passed since I was last at sea."

"I figured you would be pleased to hear that. Given that William plans to head out in the coming days and I know Runa will be as well… It's only fair I take a turn staying on Havens shores while you gather your crew and head out."

"Aye, but Leland  **you**  have the job of keeping an eye on the fleets and their movements. Still, I am not about to pass up the chance to sail with my crew.  _Mistwalker_  is as much my home as these very walls…" Rhea paused as a smile crept its way across her face. One that was not simply filled with happiness, but also a cold and cunning malevolence that Rhea either forgot too, or just did not bother to disguise. "And it has been far longer since my last hunt. Mustn't let the  _'king'_  forget that I am still here. I would hate to think she had forgotten I have no allegiance to her, or her title."

"I do not believe that is likely, given the… severity… of your last exchange. Sending the 15 severed heads of her crew straight to her home was not something one would forget so easily." Leland commented before sighing and rubbing his eyes. The movement catching Rheas eye, and she noted just how tired he really looked… obviously he had not been resting as Cobalt would have undoubtedly ordered him too.

"You can spend the night here if you need to Leland; I have more than enough room." She offered, her tone betraying a bit of worry at his physical state. But he just shook his head and smiled, though a creeping exhaustion was now clearly evident in every move he made.

"No, no I am fine. I really just wanted to check on you to make sure you were alright… but I do I think I will be heading back now." The Englishman paused, noting how the look of concern had not wavered from Rheas eyes. "Don't worry. William is not far off, he'll probably walk me back the rest of the way. He came with me originally, but halfway up from the beach he caught sight of a rabbit and the next thing I knew he was gone." Leland chuckled dryly at recounting this. "I suppose that means I will have to choke down burnt rabbit when I get back. Oh joy…"

"Well, he only cooks for the people he cares for the most." Rhea mused as with a small, kind smile. "He may have very little talent for it, but his heart is in the right place. It usually is."

"Now that I have no doubts about." Leland acknowledged before finally turning to go. "Do take care Rhea." Of course, no sooner had he opened the door did he yelp as something came rushing straight at his face, nearly causing the man to lose his balance as whatever it was flew over his head and landed on Rheas now outstretched arm… After a moment it was revealed that this creature was in fact a large barn owl. Most of the birds' body was snowy white in color, but it's back and wings boasted large swaths of silver feathers although the bird had some unusual markings, with small sections of white feathers amidst the grey making perfect crescent moon shapes in the center of each wing. "Good God… I am NEVER going to get used to that beast of yours."

"At least Nomura is not trying to attack your head anymore." Rhea chuckled as the owl hopped up her arm and began to affectionately rub against the side of her head. "Take care of yourself as well Leland." She said as her guest gave her one last nod before he closed the door and headed on his way.

Sighing in a bit of relief that her home was  _almost_  her own again, Rhea walked as quietly as a ghost through the halls of her home, before returning to the room where Salazar still remained in a deep sleep. Unaware of the concerned look his caretaker was giving him as she settled in the chair near his bed, the owl abruptly flew from her shoulder to the open window just above the unconscious man and it fixed its own eyes on the prone form. Seeming to be curious about his presence, but being careful to remain silent.

As silent as the night itself, Rhea picked up a book that she'd placed on the nightstand some time earlier, prior to her guests awakening. But even amidst returning to the tale, Rhea was left with the nagging feeling that the coming days were going to bring about nothing but trouble…

… _and not all of it would be because of Salazar…_

* * *

 

 

Elsewhere, at the beach situated at the opposite end of the island from Rheas lighthouse, in the shadow of the looming castle, Runa stood amidst a small trio of palm trees near the shore. Attached to the trunk of each tree was what appeared to be a training dummy. Nothing grand by any means, barely anything more than heavy brown sacks shaped into rudimentary human shapes and secured to the trees with heavy ropes. After checking that each of the dummies was properly secured, she took several steps away and surveyed her work for a moment before drawing her sword… and closing her eyes.

Taking a deep breath Runa envisioned herself in a place that had been very familiar to her, a vast courtyard with the sun shining brightly above her and in the same positions as the dummies… before her stood three armed men. She let the memory fully consume her mind and she took her stance. And that was when the fighting began… what should have been an extremely one-sided fight was nothing of the sort. Runa blocked and parried every move her opponents made, movements that she perfectly mimicked now against the dummies. Granted there was no form of resistance this time, it did not make her speed nor grace any less impressive. She remembered this day like it was yesterday, every detail down to the most insignificant of things. From the way her blade effortlessly matched men with many more years of experience than her, to the way the crowd watching her gasped when she had abruptly disarmed the first of the men.

' _My goodness, I've never seen a woman fight like that before!'_  She remembered hearing one of the spectators' whisper as she twirled her sword as elegantly as though it was a dance move before quickly thrusting it into the second man's body, not to harm him but rather to lop off several golden buttons from his uniform. A move that stunned him so much disarming him became almost pitifully easy.

' _I can hardly believe you allowed her to learn to use a sword like that. It's not very ladylike, nor is it particularly becoming.'_  A second voice chimed in sounding much haughtier than the last.  _'Why in the world did you let her learn such things?'_

' _Because she wanted to learn how to defend herself and I saw no reason to deny her request.'_  This voice was not like the others, it was calm, quiet, completely controlled… and very much filled with pride.

But this voice made Rhea lose her focus and stumble… in reality, not in her memory. Her stance was now off as her eyes snapped open. She paused, regaining her composure and began to try and pick up from where she left off. Remembering the movements, remembering the practiced form that she had long developed into her own personal type of swordplay… only now she didn't close her eyes. She just tried to get back to practicing her blade maneuvers and prevent her mind from wandering down the dark path just recalling that voice had unintentionally sent her on… unfortunately she did not get her wish.

' _She certainly is talented with that blade.'_  Yet another spectators voice observed as this memory continued to echo throughout Runa's mind. With each passing moment a knot began to form within her chest, a twisting writhing ball of rage that convulsed in such a way she could feel it overshadowing her own racing heartbeat. Along with the mounting anger, her fighting style was becoming considerably more violent and aggressive. This became especially evident when she abruptly slashed her sword across the throat of one of the dummies, letting sand bleed out of the now gaping wound before ramming the blade deep into where a heart would have been with such force it actually pierced deep into the tree behind her target. Sadly this led to the sword becoming stuck and as Runa fruitlessly tried to remove it, her rapidly rising anger hit an entirely new level as the last part of the memory played out before her eyes.

' _You must be very proud of her.'_  A woman's voice this time, the amusement in her voice made it very obvious that her words were meant in jest. But before they could be taken as such, Runa had her blade at her opponent's throat, forcing him to begrudgingly yield… and she remembered how she had smiled so broadly and scanned the observers looking for someone in particular, for a man with very fine clothing who leaned heavily upon a walking stick… a man with horrific burns covering one half of his face-

' _Of course I am.'_  This man, the owner of the same proud voice from before, the voice that triggered such anger to rise from the very depths of Runa's soul like a hideous leviathan.  _'She is my daughter after all!'_

"LIAR!" Runa screamed as with one swift movement her sword snapped, leaving most of the blade lodged in both the tree and the dummy.

After that everything became still, save for Runa's breathing as she tried to force the memories to leave her. Tried to bury the unspeakable rage that burned hotter than the devils fire as she had countless times before… it was only then that she realized that she was standing up to her ankles in seawater. Something that actually began to cause confusion to overtake her rage, as she knew that high-tide was still many hours off. How could-

" **De anger in your heart shows no sign of ebbin' away."**  A cold, unnatural voice whispered from directly behind Runa… and as soon as she heard it, it felt as though the blood in her veins had been replaced with ice. The anger almost immediately being replaced with flat out hatred.  **"It will only get worse, if you do not face it."**

"You are the last person in the world I wish to speak with right now." Runa growled, not turning to face this individual. Knowing full well who it was… but Calypso clearly took no heed of her words and after a long moment of silence, Runa felt a hand being very gently placed upon her back. It was as though a dam of wrath just released its floodgates and in a split-second Runa had grabbed the blade and ripped it free from the tree, whirled around and cut the hand clean off. Her eyes glowing a dark, deep ocean blue as she stared hatefully at the other woman before her.

But Calypso just stared back, seemingly without any emotions whatsoever. There was no blood from where her hand had just been severed, only seawater… which silently just reformed into another hand. Her eyes were unreadable and only shone in the same way the sea reflected moonlight. But finally she sighed and then chuckled darkly at the young woman before her.  **"Your rage will harm all who cross your path… just like your father."**

"Go away!" Runa snarled as a crimson river dripped from the hand still clenching the broken sword. The blade having long cut deep into her palm. "Leave me alone! Can you not see that I want nothing to do with you?!"

Again, these words had no visible affect on the sea goddess as she maintained the same unreadable emotion as before… but after a few minutes which seemed to take an eternity to pass, the sea began to recede as Calypso turned her back to Runa.  **"You can't hide who you are forever."**

"I am not hiding anything." The young woman grumbled as she watched the goddess leave, eventually breathing a sigh of relief when Calypsos form dissolved entirely into seawater and completely disappeared from view. Taking in a deep breath an exhaling slowly, Runa felt the anger within her be suffocated again. It was not gone, not by any means… it was still there, still raging… just suppressed once again for the time being. No longer able to continue practicing her swordplay Runa turned to leave. Quietly walking the shoreline back towards the town.

" **Dark and evil tings now be loose upon de sea…"**  Calypsos voice echoed from beyond the oceans edge, even though she took no physical form.  **"You be needin' to face de truth… Soon."** This time Runa didn't even bother to look out at the ocean. She ignored the warning, ignored Calypso… and ignored the faint stirrings of bitterness that rose within her heart. Mentally arguing that she was far to tired to care right now. She made it back to the harbor and returned to her ship,  _Silver Arrow._

_It wasn't until she was inside her cabin and just beginning to laying down to rest that Runa could not help but wonder just what kind of evil Calypso spoke of…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone that’s it for this chapter, but I wanted to just take a moment to note here that I really did try to get the information about Salazar’s medals to be about as accurate as possible. I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to cross reference the medals he had in the movie, with Spanish military and naval medals that could have possibly been awarded to him. Unfortunately, my research led me to conclude that at least one, if not all of those medals were actually not from Spain, let alone that point in time. The closest one that I could match to being potentially historically accurate is the one that I wrote about. If it turns out that I’m wrong, well… I gave it my best shot. 
> 
> Either way, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I hope to have the next one up soon! Although I’m no longer going to be trying to get it done in two weeks, although that would be ideal I am not going to try and force myself to do that… So I hope to update at least once every month. If I can manage more than that I will make every attempt to do so.  
> Nonetheless I hope you continue to enjoy my story and I promise to get the next chapter done as fast as I possibly can ^_^
> 
> Spanish Translations:
> 
> Quién eres y dónde me has traído - Who are you and where have you brought me?!
> 
> Tu mientes - You lie
> 
> Lo siento - I’m sorry
> 
> Por que ayudarme - Why help me 
> 
> Bruja - Witch


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